Big Sister
by Serrafina
Summary: What if Faith punched Buffy off the balcony after being stabbed in Graduation Day? WIP
1. Big Sister

Big Sister by Serrafina

Summary: This is a what-if about Graduation Day. After Buffy stabs Faith, Faith punches Buffy off of the balcony, instead of onto it as she does in the show.

Spoilers: Up to the end of season 3. Eventually, will have some season 4 stuff.

Disclaimer: With the exception of Jim, all of the characters are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. But I own the story. Don't steal it.

Feedback: I live for reviews. Well, not really, but exaggeration's my friend. I love reviews. That's a little more accurate.

Ok, on with the show:

_Well, look at you. All dressed up in big sister's clothes. _

_You did it. You killed me. Still won't help your boy though._

Jim whistled along to the old eighties song blaring on his radio. When the song ended, a pop song came on, and he bent his head to fiddle with the dial. As he was searching for a satisfactory station, he glanced up just in time to see a large object fall half a block in front of him. He jerked and slammed his foot on the brake, swerving to the side to avoid hitting whatever it was. With his truck now parked halfway on the sidewalk, he opened his door and hopped onto the asphalt.

His jaw dropped as he realized that the object was a person. A very injured person. He gagged and covered his mouth as he staggered towards the limp form of a young woman. She lay face down on the street in a rapidly forming pool of blood. Her limbs were twisted at impossible angles, and she did not move. He dropped to his knees beside her and reached one trembling hand towards her neck. He nearly passed out with relief as he felt the weak but present pulse beneath his fingers. He rolled her over the slightest bit so that he could see her face. He pushed her blond hair away and was shocked by her youth. She couldn't be twenty. He glanced up at the tall apartment building from which she must have fallen just in time to see someone stagger away from a balcony. He frowned at the balcony, but the figure quickly disappeared from sight, and he turned his attention back to the injured girl. He climbed to his feet and rushed back to his truck. He scrambled onto the driver's seat and opened the glove compartment in search of his phone. He pulled it out and dialed 911.

"Hello?" he said in a panicked voice. "I need an ambulance, there's a badly injured girl..."

There was so much blood. I scowled irritably at it as the water washed over my hands. I rubbed the black tank top between my hands, scrubbing at it in desperation. There was just so much blood. The leather jacket was completely ruined, as were the red leather pants. But this shirt was salvageable. It had to be.

My frown deepened as I scrubbed harder and harder. Yet even as I washed the blood away, more of the dark red liquid dripped onto the shirt. Puzzled, I looked down at my abdomen. A large knife was embedded in me, and blood was flowing from the wound. _This is no good, _I thought as I placed the garment out of reach of the blood flow. My hands wrapped around the handle, and I pulled it out of myself. I held it in front of my face and turned it in the air, inspecting the blood-encrusted blade from all angles. My dark brown hair fell in front of my eyes, and I tucked it behind my ear, smearing blood on my cheek in the process.

"Well, look at you," a familiar voice said.

A girl sauntered into my view, and I looked at her in confusion. She was so familiar, but who was she?

"All dressed up in big sister's clothes," she continued.

I looked down at the clothing I had put on after my own had been ruined by the blood. I was wearing a white t-shirt, a dark jacket, and tight-fitting jeans. I looked back up at the girl as I pulled the knife out of her body.

Then I was falling.

The wind rushed past me, and my blond hair whipped out in front of my face, framing the figure of my enemy with a demented halo. I watched as the brown-haired girl pulled the knife from her abdomen and stumbled away from the edge of the balcony. Then my world exploded around me, and everything was dark.

"We're all going to die."

Xander looked up at Cordelia. He placed his book down on the table and turned to face her.

"What makes you say that?"

She gave him a stony look. "Come on. You said it yourself: there's no way you're getting out of this school alive. For once, you're right."

Xander turned to Giles, who was sitting across from them sipping coffee and studiously ignoring them. "Was I imagining it, or did she just say I was right?" Giles glared at Xander over the top of his book, but Xander only grinned. "Just so you know, I may ask you to sign a document saying you witnessed this notable event."

"Very funny, Xander, but I'm serious," Cordelia snapped. "There is no way this can have a happy ending. We're all going to die. This isn't going to be some fluffy bunny movie, this is going to be an 'everybody dies' Exorcist-type movie."

"I dunno," Xander said, "exorcisms are a bit old. Been there, done that. Lots of snakes, some bees, which, on the bright side, closed school..." Xander trailed off as the seed of an idea began to form in the back of his mind. He jumped in his seat as the phone rang.

"Buffy?" Giles said as he put the phone to his ear.

Xander sat up straight, eager to hear if there was any news. Cordelia exhaled loudly, and continued to flip through her book.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Giles said into the phone, and Xander felt his hopes sink. "I was expecting...Yes, I am Rupert Giles. Yes, I do know a Buffy Summers..."

Xander could hear the concern in Giles's voice loud and clear, and he was beginning to worry himself. Some stranger was calling Giles about Buffy? _This is not good,_ he thought as he rose from his seat and went to lean against the counter not three feet away from Giles.

"Dear lord," Giles breathed in horror. "Is she...No, I am not family. Her mother is out of town at the moment...Yes, thank you. I will be there as soon as possible."

Giles hung up the phone and looked up at Xander. "We're going to the hospital. Now." With that, the ex-Watcher strode quickly out of the library, leaving Xander and Cordelia to hurry after him.

"What is it?" Xander said as they walked. "What's wrong? Is Buffy okay?"

"For once I am glad that she has a criminal record," was all Giles would say.

"What's that supposed to be mean?" Cordelia said loudly.

"A truck driver found her a few minutes ago. He called 911, and they took her to the hospital. They were able to identify her because of her criminal record, and they found her contact information. Apparently, I am listed as an emergency contact."

Xander was having trouble suppressing his panic. "What do you mean a truck driver found her? What happened? Is she okay?"

Giles did not acknowledge that he had heard any of Xander's questions.

_This is so not good_, Xander repeated to himself.

TBC

A/N: This is a story idea that's been floating around in my head for a few months now. I'm not sure where I'm going with it yet, so please be patient. I'll try to update with some semblance of regularity, but between school and writer's block, I can't guarantee anything. Anyway, please please please review. Sorry if that middle scene was really confusing, but it was supposed to be. So...REVIEW!


	2. Waiting Room

Chapter 2: Waiting Room

Oz paced the length of the room in Angel's mansion. Maybe it was his inner beast, but he had a bad feeling about this. He didn't think Buffy was going to get Faith's blood, and he didn't like to think about the consequences if she did. For lack of anything better to do, he picked up one of the spell books he and Willow had brought with them. He had been flipping through it for only a few minutes, when he paused and reread what he had just read. _This could be good,_ he said to himself. He smelled Willow behind him, and immediately went to her.

"Any change?" he said.

She shook her head. "He's delirious. He thought I was Buffy."

Oz nodded. "You too, huh?" That had been a truly strange moment.

"I hope she gets here soon," Willow went on. "She'd better if..."

"Yeah," Oz said. They both knew what she meant.

"I feel so...I feel so guilty," Willow confessed.

"Guilty?" Oz said, surprised and concerned.

Willow bit her lip anxiously. "Well, things are so terrible, and things are coming apart, but in some ways, this is the best night of my life."

Oz blinked and reached for her hand with a half smile. "Us," he whispered.

"Us," Willow affirmed with a smile and a nod. Moving at the same time, they came together for a kiss. They jumped apart guiltily as the door opened.

"I just checked on him just now," Willow said guiltily. "We're watching."

Giles did not respond, and Oz felt that bad feeling growing.

"What is it?" Willow said, frowning worriedly. "Did you hear from Buffy?"

Giles gulped. "We must go to the hospital. Buffy is...is there."

Willow inhaled sharply, and barely noticed Oz's arm wrapped around her middle.

"Come on," he said gently.

She did not pay attention when he led her after Giles, who had left the room. She moved like an automaton, and did not notice when Oz picked up a book from the table as they walked past.

Willow, Oz, Xander, and Cordelia sat in the uncomfortable hospital chairs as Giles conversed with the truck driver who had found the unconscious Slayer. Willow sniffled and looked down at Oz's hand, which was wrapped around her own. Sighing, she placed her head on his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss into her hair.

Xander watched Willow and Oz with a bit of jealousy. Not in the sense of him having romantic feelings for Willow–or Oz, for that matter–but in the sense of him being jealous that they had each other, and he did not. There was Cordy, but really he didn't have her. Willow and Oz were in love; even he could see that. He was truly happy for Willow that she had found someone who loved her like that. But still he found himself longing for the old days when it was just him and Willow, then them and Buffy. Back then, he and Willow could hug and comfort each other without romance or jealousy or any of that. Xander snorted and looked down at his hands which hung limply between his knees. He was tired, lonely, and useless; one of his best friends may be dying, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

"Thank you very much," Giles said to the truck driver. "She, um, she is beloved to all of us and we are very grateful for your help." Giles attempted to smile, and failed miserably.

"It was nothing," he said gruffly. "Just, uh, hope she's okay. Good luck to you all." Jim waved at the subdued Scoobies and walked out of the hospital, head bowed.

Giles approached the four teenagers and began to clean his glasses. "That man, uh, Jim, saw her fall from a balcony. It must have been outside Faith's apartment."

Xander looked at his hands guiltily. He knew it was stupid to blame himself, but he couldn't help thinking that this wouldn't be happening if he had convinced her not to go. He glanced over at Willow, and he could tell that she was feeling the same way. Cordelia was oddly quiet; for once, she had no idea what to say. If they had been thinking about it, they would have been shocked by her surprising display of tact.

"Is she...is she gonna be okay?" Willow asked in a small voice.

Xander didn't envy Giles at all. He knew that the older man was feeling just as bad as they were, if not worse. But he had to hold together; he had to be the grown-up. _No, _Xander thought as he looked at Giles for an answer, _I definitely do not envy him._

"The doctors are still...working on her. From the little information I managed to garner from the nurses, she has several broken bones, including a fractured skull, some head trauma, and possibly internal bleeding."

"But she's got that Slayer healing, right?" Cordelia said.

"Yeah," Willow said, attempting to convince herself, "yeah, she'll be alright."

"Rupert Giles?" a nurse called, stepping into the center of the waiting room.

Giles almost leapt to his feet. "Yes?"

"You are acting legal guardian of..." the nurse consulted his sheet, "...Buffy Summers?"

Giles nodded.

"He is?" Xander whispered to Willow and Oz.

"With her parents unreachable, I guess he counts since he was on her contact list," Willow whispered back.

They both looked up as Giles and the nurse approached them.

"The doctors have stabilized Miss Summers. You may visit her now. The doctors will tell

you more about her condition."

"Buffy?" Angel whispered through the haze of pain. He didn't quite understand where he was, what was going on, but he thought he was dying.

"Angel?" she whispered.

He could just barely make out her form. He wasn't sure if it was his sickness that was making her shimmer that way. She seemed almost ghostly.

"I didn't want to go without seeing you."

"Angel, I can cure you."

"It's okay," he whispered, "I'm ready."

"Angel, listen to me. Sit up." She grasped him by the shoulders. "You're not going to die."

"What way?"

"Drink."

Angel gasped, and tried to pull away from her. Abruptly, she was gone. He sank back into a feverish sleep full of nightmares in which his love lay bleeding and unconscious.

"The bones are set, and the internal bleeding is reparable," the doctor told the Scoobies, who were having difficulty concentrating on his words. But they needed to know this. "But the head trauma, it's...well it's simply too severe. You know, it's a wonder she's alive at all, with the fall and the blood loss. I am sorry, but there is almost no chance at all that she is ever going to regain consciousness."

All Willow could think was that the doctor was wrong; he had to be wrong. The doctor didn't know Buffy was the Slayer. He couldn't know how quickly he would heal. Yet even as she was thinking these optimistic thoughts, she couldn't help the overwhelming when she looked at her comatose friend. Her face was horribly bruised, and her skull was bandaged, as were an arm and a leg. She wasn't on a breathing tube, for which Willow was extremely grateful. She didn't think she could handle seeing her friend lying there, lifeless, with a tube stuffed down her throat as a visible reminder of the fact that she was clinging to life by a few tubes and machines.

Willow was saved from her downward-spiraling thoughts by Giles, who cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. As the doctor went to work on some paperwork, they huddled together and spoke in hushed tones.

"I fear that we must put aside our own grief," Giles said, taking a deep breath, "and examine the larger picture. The Ascension is hours away, and we have no Slayer."

"Yeah," Cordy said, "everything pretty much sucks right now."

"I have an idea," Xander said, "for killing the Mayor."

"Oh great, that's comforting," Cordy said snidely.

"We have another girl with severe blood loss," a nurse was saying to the doctor in the

background. "Doctor Pal wants you to practice an anti-cubal ?cut down."

"I'll be right there," the doctor said as he walked past them.

Giles once again began to clean his glasses. "Perhaps we would be better off discussing this matter in a more private place."

"What are we going to do about Angel?" Willow asked despondently as she began to walk away from Buffy.

Xander shrugged. "She almost died trying to save him. And it's not like he was going to stick around anyway."

"Xander," Willow said with a hint of anger in her voice, "he's saved a lot of people's lives, and Buffy...she would have wanted us to save him."

"Uh, guys?" Oz said. He was standing at the entrance to the next room over, brandishing the book he had brought from the mansion. The others went to join him, and they saw the Mayor sitting in a chair by the bed of an unconscious Faith. "I think I may have found something that'll help with Angel."

TBC

A/N: I'm not wild about this chapter, a lot of it was stuff that I had to get out of the way plot-wise, but at least now it's done. So, what do you think? Good, bad, mediocre? Let me know! Oh, and thanks to Buffycoo999 and krissy for reviewing.


	3. Preparations

Chapter 3: Preparations

"Okay," Willow said nervously. "Have we got everything?"

"I have the book, the candles, the herbs, and, of course, the...well, that is, her..."

"Yeah," Willow said, cutting off Giles. "Yeah, uh, right. Okay. Here we go."

The teenage witch was seated cross-legged on top of a table they had placed at the foot of Angel's bed. Giles was placing candles at every corner of the room, and lighting them. When he was done, he handed the book, open to the relevant page, to Willow, who anxiously read over the incantation. Then he produced a vial from inside his jacket, and poured the red liquid into a large serving bowl on the table. The liquid did not even cover the bottom, but Giles felt that even this small amount was far too much.

Willow began to recite the words in Latin, and Giles sprinkled the herbs into the bowl. He watched as the brown and green substances seemed to melt into the red liquid. Thirty seconds later, Willow had finished the first recitation, and the herbs appeared to have disappeared completely. Willow began the incantation again, and both of their gazes were trained on the contents of the large bowl. They were disappointed but not unduly surprised that, at the end of the second recitation, there were no evident changes. The book said that the required number of recitations varied based on the subject. Giles had hoped that only two would be necessary, but apparently that was not the case. On the third recitation, Willow's voice took on a deeper tone, and Giles looked at her in alarm. Her eyes were fixed on the bowl, and her face was completely expressionless. Yet there seemed to be something almost sinister lurking behind her eyes, and in the tone of her voice, which was no longer recognizable. Abruptly, she stopped, and her muscles relaxed. Giles almost reacted too slowly to catch her as she collapsed. Almost, but not quite.

As he gently eased her down from the table so that she could rest in a chair, she raised one trembling hand and pointed at the bowl. "Look," she whispered proudly, "I did it. It worked."

"Yes," he said, "it worked. You did a very fine job, Willow."

Once she was settled, he went back to the table and picked up the bowl in his hands. As he approached the unconscious vampire with the full bowl, a knot formed in his gut. He hated doing this. Every part of him rebelled against this. It seemed so wrong, and yet the rational part of his brain told him that it was the right thing to do. _Oz did very well to find this spell,_ Giles thought as he looked down at the shivering and sweating form of Angel. The vampire seemed to be wrapped in some sort of nightmare, which only intensified with the proximity of the bowl. _In addition to allowing us to transform a small amount of the...of Angel's cure into the necessary amount, this spell could prove very useful in the future._

"Angel," Giles said loudly, hoping to wake the vampire.

"Buffy," the vampire whispered, clearly still delusional. Giles looked back at Willow, who just shrugged.

"Angel," he repeated, "this is Giles. I can cure you."

"What way?" the vampire whispered.

Giles took this response as a good sign, and he placed the bowl on the bed. He bodily maneuvered the vampire into a half-sitting position. Then he lifted the bowl once more, and held it before Angel's face. "Angel, you must drink," he said.

The vampire tried to move, but he was far too weak. "No," he muttered. "Buffy. No."

Giles frowned, and wondered if Angel was at all conscious. But he quickly came to the conclusion that it made no difference. "Yes," he said firmly. "Drink." He forced Angel's mouth open with one hand, and with the other he began to tip the bowl. Giles wished for the umpteenth time that they could have used Faith, but the Mayor's continued presence at her bedside had disabused them of that notion. The ex-Watched swallowed his discomfort and poured the contents of the bowl into Angel's mouth. He averted his gaze as Buffy's blood flowed down the vampire's throat.

Xander glanced at Cordelia, who sat across from him, studying her nails. He glanced down at his hands which beat sporadic rhythms against his knees. He winced as Oz went over a bump, and his head hit the wall behind him. He and Cordelia were seated amidst the guitars, amps, and piles of sheet music in the back of Oz's van. Tense did not even begin to describe the mood in the van. He and Cordelia weren't exactly on friendly terms; add to that the Ascension and Buffy's untimely coma, and you had a recipe for very awkward silences.

"We're here," Oz said as he parked. They were the first words he had spoken since they had gotten in the van.

Xander felt like cheering as he jumped onto the sidewalk. He wasn't particularly happy about what they had ahead of them, but any action was better than sitting in a van with his ex and his best friend's taciturn boyfriend. But somehow he managed to remain silent. Perhaps all the bad stuff that had been weighing on his mind had something to do with his lack of cheering.

"Locked," Oz said as he tried the door.

"Is there like a spare key or something?" Cordelia said as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Buffy doesn't keep a spare key outside," Xander said, walking away from the door. "Or if she does, she never told anyone about it. She's the Slayer. She doesn't really want people or demons to be able to get into her house."

With that said, Xander gave the window beside the door a well-placed shove, and it swung inward. He sent a half smile over his shoulder as he climbed through and went to unlock the door. When he opened it, he was greeted by Cordelia's impatient glare, and Oz's lack of expression.

"She doesn't want people to get into her house?" Cordelia said.

Xander just shrugged. "I am the obvious exception. And anyone else who can figure out how to get through that window."

"Of course," Oz said blandly as he stepped into the house.

Xander moved quickly up the stairs and into Buffy's room. He tried to shake off the feeling that he was invading his friend's privacy, but he couldn't help feeling unsettled. He was standing in the midst of everything that screamed _Buffy_, but she was lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Xander sighed, and knelt down beside Buffy's weapons chest. Now was not the time to fall apart.

Oz grunted softly as he hauled the van door shut on the assorted weapons. He was approaching his door, keys in hand, when Xander came running out of the house, holding Buffy's Class Protector award in one hand.

"Oz, wait," Xander said.

Oz waited, expressionless.

"This may sound completely crazy, but I think I know a way to improve upon this plan. We're still going to need all the weapons we can get."

Oz didn't bother to ask what the new plan was going to be. Xander would tell them all later. "What next?" was all the werewolf said.

"Explosives."

"Have I mentioned yet that I don't think it's possible to come up with a crazier plan?" Cordelia protested.

"We attack the Mayor with hummus," Oz said, earning himself strange looks from both Xander and Cordelia.

"I stand corrected," she admitted.

"Just trying to keep things in perspective."

"Thank you," she said slowly and stiffly. "This improvement better actually be an improvement," she muttered to herself as she climbed into the passenger seat.

"Whose going to look after him?" Buffy said as she stepped into the light.

"It's a she," I said as I joined her in the brightly lit apartment. "Aren't these things supposed to take care of themselves?" I continued as my gaze sought out the cat that wasn't a cat.

"A higher power guiding us?" she said, turning to me.

"I'm pretty sure that's not what I meant," I replied as I moved to stand in front of the broken window. _Not sure what I meant_, I said to myself, _but that wasn't it._

"Is there something I'm supposed to be doing?" she said, sounding so lost.

"Eventually. Miles to go. Little Miss Muffet counting down from 7-3-0. You don't have as much time as you think. Try not to be late."

"Great," Buffy said, "riddles."

"Sorry," I laughed. "It's my head. Lotta new stuff." _Got that right_, I said to myself. _I don't get half what I'm saying. How can I expect B to? _I could feel her gaze even though I couldn't see her.

"They're never going to fix that, are they?" she said, referring to the window I was staring at. Finally, I turned around to face her.

"What about you?"

She just shrugged. "It'll fade." She stared at something in her hand, petrified.

I knew she was seeing something I wasn't, but I figured it was just the way this dream thing worked. Meanwhile, I couldn't keep my eyes off her horribly bruised face. She didn't even seem to be aware of the damage. I wondered what it would do to her if she knew. "You know what's funny?" I said, breaking the silence between us. "Human weakness. It never goes away. Not his, not yours, and not mine."

She looked at me for a few seconds, then her lips curved in a small smile. "Is this your mind or mine?"

"Well, I thought it was mine, but now...beats me," I said with a laugh.

"What's with the boxes?" she said, looking around the apartment which was littered with boxes. "Looks like you're moving out."

"Looks like," I said, my brow furrowing slightly. "How am I going to fit all this stuff?"

"Just take what you need," she said as she slowly walked towards me. She gently reached out to touch my cheek. "Are you ready?"

I stared into her eyes, which belied none of the wildness I could see when she slid a knife into my gut, as my surroundings dissolved to white.

Faith woke with a start. She sat straight up in her bed, tossing the sheets forcefully from her body as she slid off the edge to stand firmly on her own two feet. She walked out of her room and into the adjoining room without pausing to take in her white, sterilized surroundings. Faith stared at the occupant of the bed, feeling a mixture of sadness, regret, and sharp anger coursing through her. As she looked down on the girl who had once been the closest thing she'd had to a friend, a sister, even, she wondered what was next. Even as she considered this, she knew the answer. She only had person left, and she wasn't going to lose him.

Five minutes later, she strode into the waiting room, fully dressed. Her heart rose from the depths as she saw the relieved smile on his face as he rose to his feet. Five seconds later, the man she wished had been her father stood in front of her. He was the only person she could turn to now.

"I'm ready," she said before he got the chance to say anything. _I'm ready, B._

TBC

A/N: So there's chapter 3. Hope you like it, and I hope it was worth the wait. I've never written for Faith before, so I would really appreciate it if you would review and tell me what you think! Oh, and I stole lines from Graduation Day, Part 2. The dream sequence was hard to write (it was from Faith's POV, which, like I said before, is not something I'm familiar with) so please review! Oh, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. You guys rock.

krissy: I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!

Buffycoo999: Don't worry, I'm not stopping any time soon!

NoLifeKing: Angel was dreaming that Buffy was with him, but he was alone...or was he...just kidding. Faith wasn't really in a coma, she was just unconscious because of that knife wound Buffy gave her.


	4. Graduation, Part One

Chapter 4: Graduation, Part One

Wesley coughed and straightened his jacket. Mentally preparing himself for the imminent verbal abuse that he was sure to receive, he took a few steps toward the double doors. When he looked in the windows, he had to stop in order to breathe. He told himself that he wasn't stalling, he just wanted to know what he was walking into. He could see Giles standing to the side of Willow, Oz, and Xander, who were all seated at the table. Cordelia stood off to the side. Wesley could not see Buffy, and assumed she was standing farther to the side.

"I'm not saying it's not crazy," Xander was saying, "but it's this or the humus offensive."

"He'll never see it coming," Oz said in a monotone.

_I will never understand Americans, especially not teenagers,_ Wesley complained to himself. Then there was a lull in the conversation, and he couldn't put this off any longer. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the double doors.

No one immediately acknowledged his presence, so he spoke. "Whatever you're doing, you haven't an enormous amount of time."

Xander swivelled in his chair, seemingly indifferent to the fact that the chair was meant to have more than two feet on the ground at once. "Hey, it's Mr. States-the-Obvious."

Giles took a step forward, managing to make the simple action of taking off his glasses look threatening. "The Council is not welcome here. Buffy does not work for them anymore, and neither do I."

"I'm not here for the Council. Just tell me how I can help."

"That is so classy," Cordelia cried from where she was leaning against the bookshelves. "Isn't he just so classy?" she implored her companions.

Wesley stood with baited breath as he waited for one of them, any of them, to respond. In the end, it was Giles who broke the silence.

"There is plenty to be done. We need all the help we can get."

"So there is something I can do," Wesley said, sighing with relief.

"You, Angel, and Cordelia can help me research the Ascension," Giles replied solemnly.

Wesley turned his head at the sound of footsteps coming down the steps, only to freeze in shock at the sight that met his eyes. He had assumed that Buffy was standing there, but instead it was a very healthy-looking Angel. "Where is–" Wesley began.

"She's not coming," Angel interrupted, his eyes trained on the books and weapons in his hands. His tone clearly conveyed that he was not going to say anything else on the matter.

"Okay," Xander said, a little bit too loudly, "so...Will, Oz, you guys get chemistry duty. Me, I'm going shopping."

"Glorified donut runs?" Cordelia snarked. Xander just glared.

---

"No way!" Faith said as she stalked angrily towards his desk.

"Yes way," the Mayor repeated patiently. "Now drink your milk."

"You can't keep me out of this fight," Faith cried petulantly, ignoring the glass of milk he had poured for her.

"You're injured, Faith," he insisted. "I don't want you to be in the thick of it." He stood and walked around his desk to stand in front of her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her eyes and said, "Just please stay out of the main action. Stay in the back, behind the lackeys."

Faith swallowed a lump in her throat, and looked down at the carpet. "I just feel like I let you down is all."

"Hey," he whispered gently. He removed one hand from her shoulder and placed it under her chin, tipping her head up so that she was once more staring into his eyes. "You could never let me down."

"Now, this is how it's going to lay out," he said to the vampires. "The transformation should begin at exactly 3:28. I'll just be finishing my speech. You know, it's too bad you fellows have to miss that, because I think it speaks to everyone of us. I mean, heck, I've been working on it for a hundred years. It better be good." He laughed shortly, then his tone became serious again. "They'll try to run, of course, and this is when I'll need you boys in flanking position."

"But Sir, the sun!" a vampire protested.

"Not a problem."

---

"Darkness will follow and day becomes night," Wesley read aloud, pacing across the library. He closed the book and looked up at Angel. "A solar eclipse. Standard procedure for an Ascension."

Angel nodded, taking that in. "That puts me back into the game."

Wesley took off his glasses and began to clean them. "Do you know what you're going to do?"

Angel frowned slightly, thinking about the answer to Wesley's question. "I need you to get something for me."

---

"You come up through the sewers here. The important thing is containment. I'll need to feed. It's crucial in the first few minutes to sustain the change. What does that mean?" The Mayor shook his finger at his undead minions. "No snacking. I see blood on your lips, it's a visit to the wood shed for you boys. Kill. Don't feed."

---

"There," Oz said as he and Willow bent over various books and papers strewn across the table.

"Fun with chemistry," Willow said as she read the page he handed to her. "Now we just need Xander to come back with the materials."

"Who's going to stoke it up?" Oz wondered aloud.

They both looked at Giles as he walked down the steps. Noticing their gazes, he took off his glasses with a sigh. "I suppose it should be I. It's strangely fitting in a grotesque fashion."

---

"Remember: fast and brutal," the Mayor instructed. "It's going to be a whole new world come nightfall, don't want to weaken now. And boys," he said as the vampires started to leave the office, "let's watch the swearing." Then they were gone, and it was just him and Faith.

---

Xander stuck his head inside a classroom and spotted his quarry talking to two other girls.

"Harmony, listen," he said as he approached her, "I need to talk to you for a second."

She stared at him incredulously. "You mean in front of other people?"

Xander sighed. Why did he get stuck with Harmony duty?

---

Willow walked through the crowded halls, and found him trying on his maroon robe.

"Are they serious?" Percy was complaining to his friends. "I'm gonna look stupid in this."

"Percy!" Willow called as she approached him from behind.

He turned around to look at her. "Do I look stupid in this? Be honest," he implored her.

"You look great," she assured him. "You got a sec?" Their impending doom had to take precedence over the male ego.

---

Wesley handed Angel the item the vampire had wanted. Angel took it with only a nod to acknowledge the Watcher's assistance. Wesley sighed, and moved back into the stacks. He paused as he saw her standing with her back to him, quietly removing books from the shelves and placing them in a box.

"Cordelia."

"Y-yes?" she said, spinning around to face him.

Wesley looked down at his hands, then back up to her beautiful face. "You know that...when this is over..."

"Yes." Her eyes silently urged him to continue.

"Well, should we prevail, I'll be going back to England."

"I know," she whispered as she turned back to the shelf.

Wesley shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, unsure how to proceed. "With Buffy no longer working for the council, there really is no place for me here."

Cordelia turned around and took a small step closer to him. "I guess not."

"No reason to stay," he murmured, taking a step forward.

"No," she said, inching towards him.

"No," he said, taking off his glasses. "No cause to hope that I might be needed."

"Needed?"

"Or...wanted."

"Wanted!" Cordelia said quietly but forcefully.

Then his lips were against hers, her hands were exploring his back, their noses were rubbing together. After a few seconds, Wesley withdrew. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking away from her. She wiped the back of her hand across her lips, then dove into a second attempt. Several seconds later, they both pulled back, and Wesley found himself wondering exactly what he had been thinking.

"Good luck in England," she said cheerily.

"Yes, um, I'll drop you a line sometime," he promised, putting his glasses back on.

"That'll be neat."

"Yes," he muttered before turning back to the bookshelves and the formidable task before them.

---

"Okay, put these with the others," Oz instructed Larry and Jonathon. "Don't touch anything."

Jonathon put the last of the sacks in the grocery cart. "W-what do we do then?"

"Nothing," Oz said.

"Just relax," Willow offered with a nervous smile. "Have a good time."

"O-okay," Jonathon stammered.

Larry glanced from side to side, then said, "Okay, it's clear. Let's move." With that, he began pushing the loaded cart as fast as he could while Jonathon pulled the van door shut, leaving Willow and Oz alone in the nearly empty interior.

"I guess that's it. Won't be long now," Willow whispered with a sigh.

"You nervous?" Oz said, his concern for her surprisingly evident.

Willow swallowed. "Only in a terrified way," she squeaked.

"We'll make it through this," Oz assured her, taking her hand in his.

"Are you sure?" she asked anxiously, but inside she was reveling in the sensation of his callused hand wrapped around her own.

"I sound pretty sure, don't I?" he replied with a slight frown.

"Yeah," Willow said with a smile.

"Then I must be sure."

Willow's smile faded as she processed his words. "Is that just a comforting way of not answering the question?"

Oz blinked and shrugged. She leaned into him and their lips met in a gentle kiss. The werewolf reached up to run his fingers through her hair. Willow pulled away and opened her eyes.

"How long till graduation?"

"A little while," he answered, capturing her lips in another kiss.

---

Giles walked out of the stacks and into the main level of the library, more weapons in his arms.

"Did you get what you need?"

Giles placed the weapons on top of the ever-expanding pile. "Yes," he said, turning to the speaker. "Did you?"

"Yes."

Giles watched, fascinated, as the vampire sat in one of the library chairs and stared at the cloth-covered object in his hands.

"Is that going to be enough?"

It took Giles a few seconds to realize that Angel was referring to the weapons.

"It will have to do," the ex-Watcher replied. "Honestly, I don't know if any of this will be enough, but it is the best we can do without..." He trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence. He also knew that he didn't need to, for the brooding vampire's thoughts were clearly similar.

"How are you holding up?" Angel said after several long seconds.

Giles couldn't help feeling faintly surprised by the vampire's concern. Giles did not think he would ever be able to forget the image of his beloved Jenny lying on his bed, her blank eyes staring at him reproachfully. _Why didn't you save me? _they always seemed to be saying. The Brit knew that the vampire with a soul was not responsible for the actions of his soulless counterpart, but his heart refused to acknowledge that fact. No matter how much time passed, Giles did not think that he would ever be able to see past the smirking, evil face that had destroyed his hopes and dreams.

"As well as can be expected," Giles admitted after a few moments. He paused, and then did something that surprised both of them: he inquired after Angel's well-being.

The vampire stared into the distance, undoubtedly thinking about a certain blonde Slayer they both held dear. "I will live." The vampire drew in a long, unnecessary breath before continuing. "It's hard. I wasn't going to say goodbye. Now I won't even get the chance to."

Giles nodded, taking that in. He may loathe the vampire, but he would have to be blind to not see how much Angel loved Buffy, and vice versa. "If you survive this, are you going to stay on the Hellmouth?"

Angel did not look at the librarian. "I don't know," he said, slowly removing the white cloth from the object in his hands. "All I know is that I have to do this...for her."

Giles found himself staring at the blood-stained knife in the vampire's hands. _Yes, _he said to himself, feeling new determination surge through his veins, _we will do this. For her._

---

Snyder watched impatiently as the students filed into their seats. When the music was done, he approached the podium.

"Congratulations to the class of 1999," he spoke into the microphone. "You all proved more or less adequate. This is a time of celebration, so sit still and be quiet." His eyes roved over the maroon-clad students, and he noted with no small amount of satisfaction that Summers was absent. "Spit out that gum," he said to Harris in a low voice. "Please welcome our distinguished guest speaker: Richard Wilkins III. I saw that gesture. You see me after graduation."

Snyder turned to the side and withdrew, clapping, as the Mayor stepped forward.

Willow rushed into her seat as the applause died down. She gazed at the empty seat beside her, and she turned around, her eyes seeking Oz's. He met her gaze, and she felt bolstered by his love. She gave him a small smile, and then turned back around. She could do this.

"Well," the Mayor began way too happily. But then, Willow supposed that if turning into a giant snake demon was his life goal, then he would be happy. "What a day this is! A special day. Today is our centennial: the one hundredth anniversary of the founding of Sunnydale, and I know what that means to all you kids: not a darn thing. Because today something much more important happens: today you all graduate from high school. Today all the pain, all the work, all the excitement is finally over. And what's a hundred years of history compared to that? You know what kids?"

Willow found her attention drifting as the Mayor continued to speak. She smiled sadly as she imagined Buffy complaining about the speech. Her friend had not been eager to sit through the long ceremony and listen to long speeches just to get a piece of paper. _Man, just ascend already_, Willow said to herself.

Behind the bored teachers, anxious students, and proud parents, Faith watched the proceedings from the shadows of the high school, and she couldn't help smirking a little at the irony of the situation. She was the Bad Slayer, the high school drop out. And here she was at Graduation.

"For all of you it may be that there is a place in Sunnydale's history, whether you like it or not. It's been a long road getting here. For you, for Sunnydale. There has been achievement, joy, good times...and there has been grief."

Faith shifted uncomfortably as she listened to her boss's words.

"There's been loss. Some people who should be here today aren't."

Faith felt bile rise in the back of her throat as she stared at the empty seat next to Red. She knew who was supposed to be sitting there, and she knew why the seat was empty. But was she proud? Guilty? Faith quickly stopped that line of thought and quashed those feeling back down where they came from.

"But we are."

_Damn straight._

"Journeys end. And what is a journey? Is it just distance traveled? Time spent? No. It's what happens on the way, it's the things that happen to you. At the end of the journey you're not the same. Today is about change. Graduation doesn't just mean your circumstances change, it means you do. You ascend to a higher level. Nothing will ever be the same. Nothing," he repeated as a shadow fell across him.

Faith looked up, and she knew that everyone else was too. She felt excited as she saw that the sun was totally blocked by the moon. It was beginning.

"And so as we look back on..." The Mayor groaned with pain, but continued his speech, shuffling his index cards in his hands. "...on the events that brought us to this day...We...we must all...GYAAAAH!" he screamed in pain. "It has begun. My destiny. It's a little sooner then I expected. I had this whole section on civic pride...But I guess we'll just skip to the big finish!"

With that said, the Mayor began to stretch and grow, his clothes bursting as they could no longer contain him. His flesh struggled to contain the alien thing that was inside him, but it too burst. The faculty abandoned their seats and ran, as did some of their parents. If Faith had been thinking about it, she would have been surprised that the students remained where they were. But Faith only looked on as the man that was the closest thing she'd ever had to a father transformed into what could only be called a giant snake. She wondered if she should be afraid of his new form, but somehow she knew that he was still the exact same man he had been not half an hour ago.

_Showtime,_ she said to herself as he towered over the screaming student body.

TBC

AN: Okay, so most of this chapter was filler. I needed to get the events of Graduation day out of the way, so it was a bit tedious to write. But that doesn't mean I don't want people to review :P

Thanks to Buffycoo999, Mtyellowcrayon, little firecracker (do you use the same name on BW?), Ghostwriter, and NoLifeKing.

Oh, and NoLifeKing pointed out that the symbols I've been using to mark scene changes haven't been showing up, so I'm trying something different for this chapter. I hope it works!


	5. Graduation, Part Two

Chapter Five: Graduation, Part Two

Willow practically felt the student body recoil in shock at the transformation. She and the other Slayerettes had spread the word that something _really _bad was going to happen at Graduation with the Mayor, but nothing could prepare people for this sight. It was a slap in the face, a wake up call to the residents of Sunnydale. The Mayor was not just corrupt, but he also happened to be a giant snake demon that was trying to eat them all. Willow wondered how anyone would be able to forget this if they survived.

Willow's eyes met Xander's on the other side. No words were spoken, but she understood what went unsaid. She took one more look at the empty seat behind her as she stood on firm legs and quietly removed her cap. Without looking, she knew that Xander was doing the same. _We're going to win this, Buffy. We're going to do this for you, and for the world._ Soon, all of the senior class was on its feet, staring upward at the monster that had been–and perhaps still was, in some way–the Mayor of Sunnydale. Willow twisted her neck to find Oz amongst the sea of people. Even though there was no way he could have known she was looking for him, he turned to meet her eyes as they alighted on his familiar form. It was almost as if her boyfriend could sense her gaze. Willow gave him a small smile, which he returned. Then she knew that they really could win this.

---

Xander hopped onto his chair as he saw Willow stand and remove her cap. He tossed his own cap to the ground, and looked out upon the classmates that had never paid any attention to him before. How was he supposed to command them? But even as he marveled at Cordelia's oddly trusting gaze, he knew that many were already looking to him for guidance. No one else would take charge; it would just have to be him. Xander Harris, Zeppo Extroardinaire.

"NOW!" he yelled as loudly as he could, removing his maroon gown and flinging it on top of the discarded cap, even as his former classmates did the same, revealing the various weapons strapped to their bodies. _Here we go._

---

Devon had faced crowds before, even the occasional angry one that took exception to his singing, but this was definitely something new. The lead singer of Dingoes Ate My Baby knew how to deal with people, whether they were angry mobsters or groupies. But he suddenly found himself taking commands from some guy whose name he couldn't remember, and rushing headlong into a, well, a battle.

"When I say quiet I want–"

Devon heard Snyder's voice cut across all the screaming, and the singer stared as the bottom half of the Principal collapsed to the ground in a bloody mess. _Dude._

"Fall back!" Oz's friend shouted. "Everyone, hand to hand!"

_Xander, _Devon thought. _That's his name._

"Everyone!" Xander yelled desperately. "Let's go! Move! Move!"

The senior class surged towards the waiting crowd of vampires. As he was swept along the human tide, Devon realized that he could not have resisted if he had tried, and if he were to stop moving his legs, he would either be carried or trampled by the horde of students. _When'd I get so damn wordy?_ _I sound like some fruity poet._ He snorted. _'Human tide.'_

The students began to spread out a bit, and Devon found himself able to move of his own volition. Before he could think about where to go, some guy with a messed up face grabbed his shoulders and tried to bite his neck.

"Whoa, man!" Devon yelped as he shoved the creep away from him. "I don't swing that way."

The weirdo growled, and dropped into a fighting stance. Devon glanced down at the two "weapons" he held in his hands. Shrugging, he raised the cross in his left hand and the wooden stake in his right. The guy, who Devon assumed was a vampire, seemed to take this as a threat, and backed off. As he did, Devon's eyes lighted on the hottest chick he had ever seen. She was standing behind the spot where the vampire had been, and her eyes were scanning the faces of the people around her. Dark brown hair framed a dimpled face with brown eyes and full lips. She looked to be about 5'5" and was clothed in a pink, slightly frilly, dress that looked like something a six-year-old would wear.

Devon smiled widely. _Kinky, _his mind insisted at the sight of the dress. _Damn, that is one hot chick._ And she was heading right towards him.

"Dude," he breathed. The last thing he saw was her hand coming towards his neck.

---

Faith snorted contemptuously. The guy had been too busy checking her out to move before she broke his neck. She didn't stop to watch him fall, but rather remained intent on her goal, who stood a few meters behind the body of the Sunnydale High Graduate.

Xander tried to run. That was smart, but it was pointless, for she wrapped her hands around his neck and shoulders before he could get two feet.

"Faith, wait," he choked out as she held him in a strangle hold.

"Wait?" she repeated. "Why should I wait, Xander? What wisdom are you gonna impart on me now?"

"You...don't want...to do this," he gasped.

"Don't I?" She tightened her hold and his hands beat feebly against her own as she cut off his air supply. "You Scoobies, such a tight little family, can't be bothered with people like..."

She trailed off as she heard a familiar voice coming from someone with his back to her who she knew could be none other than Angel. He was speaking to the Mayor, although she couldn't quite make out what he was saying, and he was waving a familiar blade. Faith tossed Xander aside and began to stride purposefully towards the vampire, having already forgotten about the spluttering teen.

"Hey, remember me?" Angel called. "I certainly remember the guy who tried to remove my soul, and then tried to have me killed. Didn't work out the way you planned, but I still have a bit of a grudge against you now."

Angel paused and looked the giant snake demon up and down. "And they call me a monster. I wonder what your dear constituents would say if they knew. Or what your dear Edna May would think if she saw you now. Would she curse your name? Would she love you? Or would she run screaming?

"And what about Faith?"

The Slayer in question tensed upon hearing her name.

"You're supposed to be, what, her father figure?" Angel continued. "What kind of life is she going to have with a demon like you? Will she be able to turn to you when she needs a comforting shoulder? I can just see it now...oh wait, I can't. She's a blossoming young girl," Angel said, parroting the Mayor's words from their clandestine meeting in the school cafeteria, "and you want to keep her from the life she should have until it's passed her by? I think that's a little selfish."

Faith scowled and tried to push her increasing uneasiness to the back of her mind. As Angel began to speak again, she continued her slow advance, being careful not to make a sound that might reach the vampire's sensitive ears.

"You gave her this knife, didn't you?" Angel moved the bloodstained weapon beneath his nose and made a show of inhaling deeply. "I can practically taste her blood; the blood of the Slayer is a powerful thing, but then I guess you knew that. A bit risky, don't you think? Using a poison that can only be cured by the blood of a Slayer. You must have known that Buffy would come after Faith. And if you didn't realize what the cure was, well...Never use a mystical poison without doing your homework first. The consequences can be disastrous."

Faith had heard enough. She covered the last few feet between herself and the vampire, and prepared to strike him. But the vampire must have sensed her, for he moved first, striking her in the gut with an elbow.

Faith cried out in pain and sank to her knees as the world dropped away around her. _Breathe,_ she reminded herself. _Breathe._ She briefly registered the Mayor's roar of outrage, and when she opened her eyes again, his tail was vanishing inside the high school. Angel was gone too, and she realized that the Mayor must be chasing him. She struggled to her feet, and began to jog after them. Before she entered the building, however, a voice in the back of her mind warned her against that.

_If you go in there, you won't come back out._

Faith stopped, and considered the voice. It wasn't her conscience, she was sure of that. _B? _she hazarded after a moment. Her silent question was met with no response, and she laughed softly at herself. _Talking to voices in my head. Must be out of my mind._

Still, she couldn't disregard the warning. She began to move along the outside of the school building. In the distance, far from the fighting, she spotted a familiar figure crouched over something. She began to sprint, her senses screaming at her to hurry, as she realized that it was a detonator.

She heard glass shattering, and her head whipped to the side to watch Angel leap through the library windows. He hit the ground and called out to Giles.

"Do it now!" The vampire was already running from the building, and Faith's instincts forced her to move as well.

"No!" she screamed as she watched Giles push down on the lever. She could do nothing but watch in horror as the school, and the closest thing she ever had to a father, went up in flames.

She fell to her knees as grief battered against her weary mind. But, as she had so many times that day, she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind and let the mind-numbing rage overtake her.

With a cry of primal rage, Faith tore at the crouched figures of Giles and Angel, unsure which she would tear apart first. Then something rammed against her back and she was sprawled on the ground. Grunting, she tossed the weight off her back, and rose to her feet to stare at Xander, once more at her mercy.

Then they were all there. Xander lay sprawled before him, Angel and Giles slowly approached behind her, and she could see Willow, Oz, and Cordelia in the distance, looking on. Faith's eyes met the redhead's for a second, then Faith looked away, uncomfortable. They were all here, all except Buffy, and that was because of her...

And he was gone. The only person who didn't think hate her was dead, and she was surrounded by the people who had orchestrated his death. And yet she couldn't bring herself to kill them. All she could think was that he was gone, he was really gone, and she was alone again. Tears stung in her eyes, and she grabbed fistfuls of hair in her hands, barely aware of her actions or her surroundings. Then the tears were flooding down her cheeks, and strong arms were wrapped around her as she collapsed, beating her pain and her frustration out upon the broad chest she found herself pressed against.

Abruptly, Faith's eyes snapped open and she came back to herself. She shoved herself forcefully away from Angel's comforting form. Eyes rolling frantically around the small circle of faces staring at her, judging her, condemning her, she did the only thing she could. She ran.

---

Angel had not found it easy to offer comfort to the girl who had put his love in a coma, but deep in his soul he knew that it was the right thing to do. But he could only watch as Faith rejected the comfort he had offered her, and turned on her heels and ran. He briefly wondered if he should go after her, but the weariness in his bones warned him against such an action. She would only run faster, and he didn't stand a chance of catching her like this. So he watched as she disappeared into the fog.

TBC

AN: Sorry about the wait, people, but I really have been insanely busy! Anyway, I had trouble with this chapter, and I'm not sure how it turned out, so please review and tell me what you think.

And happy Thanksgiving! I leave you with these solemn words of wisdom...

Anya: It's a ritual sacrifice. With pie.


	6. The Girl in the Door

Chapter Six: The Girl in the Door

AN: The first little scene is in first person, from Angel's POV. I hadn't intended to have any first person from him, but this bit really wouldn't have worked in third person. The other scene is not from Angel's perspective, but you'll just have to figure that one out yourself.

ANGEL

Hope can be such a cruel thing. Hope found me everyday in the small hospital room, tucked away in some windowless corner of the hospital. I was grateful for the location, but I knew what it meant.

It meant that they didn't have hope. She had no need for a window to the outside world; she wasn't going to wake up. I would gladly give up my long hours by her side for the tiniest sliver of hope in the doctors' hearts. I would give up anything if it meant she was just that much likelier to wake up. But there was nothing I could do beyond spending my days with her, and my nights on the streets, in the alleys, and in the cemeteries, doing my best to fill the void she had left in this town. When I finally retired a few hours before sunrise, my dreams were always filled with her.

There was nothing I could do but hope, and hope I did. Her friends had hope too, and they suffered for it. Every day she didn't wake increased the veiled pain in their eyes. Hope can be such a cruel thing to the person who has it, but the lack of hope can be even crueler to the person they do not hope for.

We all held onto our hope for Buffy as if it were a lifeline keeping us from sinking, for we would surely sink beneath waves of despair without it. We all hoped for Buffy, but I was the only one who hoped for Faith.

---

"You told me I was just like you. That I was holding it in."

"Ready to cut loose?"

"Try me."

"Okay then. Give us a kiss."

I felt the words as I walked through the corridor lined with doors. I passed one that stood open on my right, and through it I caught a glimpse of a small blonde girl rocking a brown-haired baby doll in her arms and singing softly under her breath. As my feet continued to carry me forward, my head turned to the left and I watched as an older woman heaved a bottle at the wall, letting the glass shatter into a million glittering pieces that rained down upon the battered armchair and the small girl crouched behind it.

Through another door, a girl in her pre-teens sat in her bed, talking on the phone to a friend. As the shouts elsewhere in the house increased in volume, she turned the volume up on her stereo, hoping to drown out the intrusion in her fragile little sanctuary. _I know this place_. I heard harsh sobs and loud, grating laughter through the wood of the door across the hall. I placed the back of my hand against the wood, as if I were checking to see if a fire raged within. Laughing at my ridiculous precautions, I placed my hand on the knob and tried to open the door, only to find that this scene was locked to me. Frowning, I continued down the hall in search of friendlier places to visit.

In one scene, a teenager embraced an older woman, the two crying happy tears. A younger girl slipped unobtrusively into the background and slowly began to change things: adjusting the time on the clock, unscrewing the lightbulb in the refrigerator, untucking the covers on the bed. I alternated between wanting to shout at her for disrupting the peace, the rightful order, and wanting to smile at her childish antics.

I tried opening another closed door, but this one too was locked.

Peering into another open door, I was met with a horrible battle. People were screaming, running, fighting, and dying as a scaled monster towered above them all, roaring its supremacy. My eyes alighted on a small girl in a pink dress, and I recognized her from the second room. I strained my eyes to see what such a young creature was doing in a place like this, but the door closed in my face, and my feet propelled me backwards from the girl in the door.

Still moving backwards, I yelped in surprise when my back struck a solid object. Whirling around, my eyes widened as I found myself face-to-face with a short, balding man with thick-rimmed glasses and a grey suit.

"I am one with the cheese," he said solemnly, directing my eyes to the slice of cheese pinned to his breast pocket.

Nodding and smiling, I walked as quickly as I could away from him, and entered a door filled with the scent of hay. The room shook every so often, but the girl in the corner did not budge; she was too intent on her own pain to notice the outside world.

Stepping away from that room and its dismal occupant, I was shocked to realize that I had reached the end of the corridor. One final door stood between me and...what? Freedom? Life? Death? Oblivion? _Only one way to find out._ I gripped the cold metal tightly in my hands and prayed that this closed door would not be locked to me as the others had.

I was in a large, elaborate bedroom. In front of me a dark-haired girl lay belly-down on a bed, chewing on a Twizzler. White noise flooded my ears, the sounds of cries and blows escalating into a furious pitch until my hand reached out and silenced the stereo. The girl rolled over and gazed at me, a small smile playing with her lips.

I felt as though I knew her, although I couldn't remember how for the life of me. "How've you been?" I said in an attempt to make conversation.

She shrugged and swung her arm out across the apartment full of cardboard boxes. "Got money, a place to stay...I think I'm gonna like it here."

I gave her a small nod. "Good to know."

"Got a question for ya," she announced, standing directly in front of me. "Ready yet?"

"Try me." I didn't understand the words passing between us, but somehow I knew they were right.

"Always confident, to the end. Thinking you've got it all figured out. But you don't. You don't know what evil is. You don't know what's coming. You don't even know who you are. Tell me, what's your name?"

I blinked at the silly question and opened my mouth to reply but the sounds froze on my tongue. _That can't be right. What was I going to say? _"The Slayer?" I hazarded weakly.

She saw my confusion and she laughed. "I knew it. I knew you can't tell where one stops and the other begins." Her brow furrowed. "Gee, maybe you've got brain damage."

"I'm the damaged one?" I said incredulously. "Look at you!"

We both looked down at the knife protruding from her gut. She looked back up at me with a pained expression.

"Are you ever gonna take this thing out?"

I tried to pull away, but my hand was holding the knife and wouldn't budge. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed to the ground, so far below. We stood and looked down at the broken, bleeding body on the pavement.

"Did you ever wonder," she began, "if things would have been different if we'd never met? What if you'd been in Boston, and I'd been here, with Giles and all your little Scoobies? You think you'd still be here right now? Or would I be lying in that hospital bed?"

I sat in a hard plastic chair beside the body, folding my hands over its own. Our hands rose and fell with every steady breath.

"Or is it just like fate?" she continued. "You know, there is no choice. You were gonna be here no matter what. You think about that stuff? Fate and destiny. I do. I try not to, but I do." She looked down at her hands, trapped in my own. "There isn't much else to do around here. But I guess you got a sense of that."

"Yeah," I muttered, unwilling to admit that I didn't understand.

She turned away from the body in the bed, and moved to stand before the broken window. "Stop sitting on your tuffet. You gotta get out of here."

I frowned, and said the only sensible thing I could think to say. "What about you?"

"Lots to do before little sis gets here," she murmured so low that I wondered if I was meant to hear it. "So," she said as she sat down by the bed, "how does this work?" She lifted one limp arm and then let it drop back to the bed.

"I don't know," I admitted. "You going to throw me off the roof?"

"Again?" she said, raising her eyebrows at me. "You gonna stab me again?"

She extended her hand that held the bloody knife. I took it from her, and held it in front of my eyes, studying the patterns of the dried blood. Then, as if in a trance, I raised my other hand, wrapped it around the blade, and _squeezed_, watching the blood flow across the viciously elegant curves. I passed her the knife, and she repeated my actions before holding it out over the physical body that separated us. I wrapped my own hand around hers, and together we positioned it over the heart of the body on the bed, the red tip of the weapon just barely touching the clean white sheet that covered the thin form. Our blood mingled in a crimson stain creeping across the whiteness.

A soft breeze blew through the broken window, carrying the scent of summer. The pathetic thing suddenly jerked upward on the bed, mouth emitting a piercing shriek that banished the wind and the summer. The scent of autumn leaves tickled my nose as the lights began to flicker under the power of the earth-shattering scream. Through it all we sat, hands clasped on the knife that was now embedded in the body's chest. The knife that had seen both of us undone. Autumn gave way to winter and darkness fell upon the world as it underwent the throes of death and rebirth.

TBC

A/N: So there it is. Another chapter, and much quicker than the last one (ironic, because I was expecting this chapter to be really hard). Anyway, yet another dream sequence. How does this one rank in terms of indecipherableness? Oh, and many lines might remind you of Graduation Day Part One, This Year's Girl, or Five by Five (Ats). They're not my creations; I'm just playing with them for awhile.

This is the part where I ask you to review.


	7. Disturbance of the Peace

Chapter Seven: Disturbance of the Peace

Jim's right hand strayed from the steering wheel to fiddle with the dial on the radio. He was driving in _that_ place, the place he had found _her_, and he was getting a strong sense of deja vu. Here he was, driving his truck through the neighborhood where he had found a girl, broken and bleeding on the pavement. He had been fiddling with the dial then, too. Irritated with himself, Jim let the pop music continue and put his hand back on the steering wheel. He didn't like taking this route anymore, and he didn't want to take his eyes away from the road. You never knew when somebody was going to fall from the sky and land right in front of you.

Jim didn't like this route anymore, but he took it anyway for the simple reason that if he hadn't happened upon her, that girl probably would have died. He could never stop thinking that it might happen again. After all, the police had never caught the attacker, and it sure hadn't looked like a suicide attempt to those who knew the girl. So Jim continued driving through the unsettling neighborhood, and kept his eyes trained on the road in front of him.

He went over a speed bump and the cargo in the back thumped about. Idly, he wondered what it was. His boss had made him sign a paper saying he wouldn't tell anyone the little he knew about it. Jim had thought that might be in violation of some rights he had, but he hadn't been too sure so he'd kept his mouth shut and signed the document. All they'd told him was that it was something for the government, and he was to get it to the empty lot on Marbury Drive by 10:00. So here he was, driving past the place he hated, delivering he-knew-not-what to he-knew-not-whom.

In reality, _that_ place was now several blocks behind him, but he still couldn't put it out of his mind. He couldn't help searching the street in front of him for a young blond woman with blood in her hair and her clothing, limbs twisted beneath her. His thoughts flashed to the unhappy people who had come to the hospital for her. He wondered how they were doing. He wondered how _she _was doing.

---

Kelly yawned and paused in her filing to think about her plans for tomorrow, her day off. She was looking forward to sleeping in, especially since she was working the night shift tonight. She placed her elbows on the desk and her chin in her hands. _Yes_, she thought, _I am definitely looking forward to sleeping in._ Kelly was tired and bored, which was never a good combination. The hospital was terribly slow tonight, and she jokingly wished some people would have a really interesting emergency, just to disturb the peace.

A few seconds later, a scream shattered the still night air, and Kelly found herself staring down the hall and thinking that wishes were dangerous things. She glanced around, but no one seemed to be in the halls. _Okay,_ she told herself, _that's a bit creepy._ Nervously, she began to jog down the corridor in the direction she thought the scream had come from.

---

Buffy woke to the sound of screaming, and belatedly realized the cries were coming from her. She drew in a deep breath and squinted at her harsh surroundings. Fluorescent lights shone on sterile white walls. The light in the corner of the room was flickering madly. Feeling very confused, she sat up in the bed, swinging her legs onto the floor. Looking down at herself, she realized that she was wearing only a hospital gown. _Perfect_.

Disturbed by the fact that she was in a hospital with no recollection of how she got there, Buffy felt the first stirring of panic. What had happened to her? They were all preparing for the Ascension, she remembered. She had gone somewhere . . . where had she gone?

_Faith._

She had gone to find Faith. They had fought. She had . . . _Oh god. Did I . . . did I kill her?_

Buffy gulped and shoved herself away from the bed, but something snagged her hand, and she realized that she was hooked up to some machine. She thought it was called an IV, but she avoided hospitals liked the plague, and therefore knew very little beyond what she'd seen on television.

"Ouch," she whispered, her voice sounding coarse in her own ears, as she pulled the thin tube from her hand.

She had to get out of here; she had to find everybody and find out what had happened to Faith and stop the Mayor and save . . .

_Oh god. Angel._

How could she have forgotten Angel? How could she have forgotten the only thing that could have driven her to face Faith and to do . . . what she had done. Had she really tried to kill her fellow Slayer? It seemed so surreal that she almost thought she must have dreamed it. Dreamed the adrenalin pounding through her veins as they fought in Faith's room, as they crashed through the window . . . dreamed the feel of the cold steel handcuffs around her wrist and the satisfying click as she snapped the other half around Faith's . . . But Buffy knew with a terrible certainty that not even in her worst nightmares could she have dreamed driving the blade into Faith's cut, feeling the spray of the other girl's blood as it poured over her hands, then the other girl's fist against her cheek: one solid, concrete moment in which the adrenalin rush faded to be replaced by harsh, brutal reality as she lost her balance and was sent sailing through the air.

_They say if you hit the ground in your dream, you die._

She remembered hitting the ground, and was fairly certain she was still alive. No, it had all been real. All of this added up to a burning need to get out of this hospital room.

---

Kelly had been down this hallway before, doing routine checks, and she knew that there was only one occupant. One comatose occupant who was never supposed to wake up. The girl had friends, unlike some of the hospital's other long-term patients. One man in particular; he was there every day, Kelly knew. She'd seen him walking out earlier tonight. There ought to be just two people here: Kelly and the girl.

But who had screamed? Had the girl? That would mean she'd woken up, which the doctors said was impossible. _Only one way to find out_, Kelly told herself as she pressed her palm against the door and slowly pushed it open. She stuck her head inside, then quietly slipped her whole body through as she looked around in confusion. The room was empty. The patient was gone.

_Crap._

---

Buffy walked as quickly as she could, but her legs felt shaky, her muscles weak as if she hadn't used them in weeks. But her weakness wasn't all that surprising, even though she couldn't deny her disappointment. After all, she thought she had fallen pretty far, and she was just glad her Slayer healing had her up and running. Or in this case, walking.

"Excuse me?" a young woman's voice interpreted her thoughts. "You know how to get to Third Floor West?"

The woman was carrying a teddy bear. _Probably visiting a little kid,_ Buffy thought. With great effort, she pulled her scattered thoughts together and gave the woman a very intelligent response. "Um, sorry?"

The woman looked at her hospital gown, and then met her gaze uncomfortably. "I see . . . do you need some help or something?"

Buffy blinked. Did she need help? Yeah, she needed help. She needed help stopping the Mayor and saving Angel. But right now, she needed answers, and she couldn't get any from this stranger. She couldn't go home; she'd sent her mom away. She needed to find Giles and the others. They were probably in the library or at the mansion, but Buffy knew she couldn't go to the mansion now; she was terrified of what she might find, or what she might _not_ find. _The library it is._

"Uh, no, I just need to get to the school. Sunnydale High School."

The woman stared at her incredulously. "You can't. They don't let people in there; it's not safe."

_When was it ever safe?_ Buffy wanted to say, but instead she said, "What do you mean? I have to get there _now._ I . . . I'm graduating."

"Graduating? I don't think . . . Maybe I should get you a nurse."

Buffy felt a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't have missed it, could she? But it was the Ascension, people were going to die if she didn't stop it . . .

"Are you o–" the woman began.

"What day is it?"

"Friday," the woman hesitantly supplied.

Was it Friday? Buffy couldn't remember, but she kind of felt like it had been Tuesday. "What date?" she asked again.

"February 25th."

_February?_ Buffy wanted to scream. _Since when is it February? It was June this morning!_ But the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that she was wrong, that something horrible had happened, that it really wasn't June anymore, that it wasn't even _1999_.

"What year?" she choked out.

"Maybe I should get you a nurse." The woman was quite clearly out of her league.

"What year is it?" Buffy asked again, a definite note of hysteria in her voice. "What _year_ is it?"

"2000. I really think I should get you a nurse."

"Just tell me what happened to the school," Buffy said in a near whisper. She could feel tears gathering in her eyes as she envisioned everyone she cared about dead while she lay unconscious in a hospital bed. She had been unconscious for almost a year; there was no way Angel could have survived that long. Not without a miracle. Buffy struggled to control the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. _He's not dead. The gang wouldn't let him die. Giles hit the books, and Willow hit the Net. They found another way. They always do._

"Well, it was a tragedy really. Lots of students died. The Principal, the Mayor. I really think maybe I should get you some help."

_Snyder kicked the bucket? Can't say I'm heartbroken at the news._ Her heart caught in her throat as her mind went back to the woman's other words. _Lots of students? Which students?_ "I need to get out of here," was all she said before taking off, leaving a stunned young woman clutching a teddy bear to her chest and staring after the running girl in the hospital gown.

Buffy was running as fast as she could, pausing only to scan the walls for EXIT signs. She no longer felt shaky; instead she felt terrified.

TBC

AN: Sorry this chapter took so long; real life's been crazy. I just finished my exams and decided to take advantage of my short break and crank this out. It beats practicing for the SAT (which I'm taking next week) any day. But anyway, I'm probably going to be freaking out all week, so you should make me feel better by reviewing ;)


	8. Reality

Chapter Eight: Reality

Enid Bergman was a nosy woman; she admitted it, and she felt no shame. Her neighbors were all disappointingly dull, with one exception. Rupert Giles had moved from London to Sunnydale, California several years ago. That was strange enough, especially considering that the man had given up his job as curator of The British Museum to be a librarian at the local high school. Mr. Giles had lived a seemingly solitary existence for the first year, although Enid did note that he kept exceptionally strange hours. The fall after his arrival in Sunnydale, a few teenagers had begun visiting him. The frequency of their visits had only grown over the next year. Enid sometimes wondered what was going on between the librarian and the students, but she didn't want to pry. She just wanted to watch from her window.

Tonight, she saw a familiar sight that had been curiously lacking over the last few months. In the past, the most frequent visitor to the Brit's house was a blond girl, but Enid had seen neither hide nor hair of her since last summer. Now here she was, wearing only a hospital gown, if Enid was not mistaken.

_How curious,_ Enid said to herself as the man's front door opened to reveal his very haggard-looking face. After a few moments, the man ushered the girl inside and closed the door. Enid harrumphed to herself, and turned away from the window. It was late, and she was tired. If only her favorite subject didn't keep such bizarre hours.

---

Buffy stopped in front of Giles's door, her breath coming in heavy gasps. She had sprinted all the way from the hospital, and her legs burned from the effort, yet goose bumps rose on her bare skin from the February chill. 

_February. _"Oh god," she whispered to herself, sounding broken to her own ears.

She had gotten here as quickly as humanly possible, but now she felt herself losing her nerve. What if Giles wasn't here? What if he had moved away? What if he were gone? What if everyone she knew and loved had disappeared?

_I don't think I can do this._ But she had to. She had to know, or else they would be gone.

---

Giles sighed and placed the book on the shelf, his hand caressing the leather spine for a moment. As he carried the dishes to the sink, placing the used tea bag in the trash, he mused on what his life had become. He lived only on his savings now, having lost both of his jobs, thanks to Quentin Travers and Xander Harris. Giles spent his days cooped up in his flat, poring through various tomes in a desperate attempt to keep ahead of any prophecies or scheduled apocalypses. Willow, Xander, and Oz came over most days to try to get him out of the house, but he was even more reclusive than ever before. Ironically enough, Angel was the only one he spoke comfortably with. Perhaps that was because they spoke only of slaying, whereas Willow, Xander, and Oz tried to engage the ex-Watcher in normal conversation.

Giles was interrupted from his musing by a gentle _rap-rap_ on his door. Giles frowned at the clock on the wall. It was a bit early for Angel to be calling, unless an emergency had arisen. Giles stood and walked to the front door, checking that his crossbow was within reach before drawing back the latch and opening the door. The sight that greeted him was one he had dared to dream of seeing.

"Giles," she said in a desperate whisper.

"Buffy." The name fell from his lips like a prayer. A prayer of gratitude, for the Fates had returned her to him. "You . . . you're . . . "

"Hi Giles," she said with a slight smile. The hint of tears glistening in her eyes betrayed her true emotions.

Without a single thought as to what he was doing, Giles pulled her into a fierce hug. He clutched her to him as if proving to himself that she was really there. He pulled away after several seconds, and held her at arms length, taking in the sight of her. He frowned as he realized that she was clad only in a pale blue hospital gown. "Dear Lord," he said. "You're . . . come in!"

---

Joyce hung up the phone and sat down in the nearest chair before her legs gave way beneath her. Her baby was awake, the nurse had informed her. Well, the nurse had said she was _probably_ awake. Probably. They didn't for sure, seeing as how she had disappeared from her hospital bed. Which was why Joyce was torn between renewed hope and blind panic. Fortunately, the phone rang again before she had the chance to panic.

"Hello," she said breathlessly.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Summers, to be calling you again," the nurse said, "but we've just heard from a woman who was coming to visit her nephew. On the way, she ran into a very confused someone who fits the description of your daughter."

---

Giles pulled a cloth out of his pocket and languidly began to clean his glasses. Buffy had gone into the bathroom to change into some of his sweat clothes, which he knew would be far too large for her slender frame. Meanwhile, he had to make a phone call that he did not quite know how to make. He knew Joyce would be delighted by the news, but he also knew that Buffy had come to him before her own mother. How could he possibly explain _that_ to Joyce?

Giles just prayed that the conversation would not escalate into a full-scale argument. That was the last thing Buffy needed to hear right now. The ex-Watcher took a deep, calming breath and removed the telephone from its cradle, punching the familiar numbers.

---

Joyce felt considerably less panicky when she hung up the phone for the second time. Her daughter _was_ awake, and that thought made her happier than she had been in months. The only thing that could make the news better would be Buffy's appearance at the door. Joyce closed her eyes and imagined it. She would be sitting here in the living room when she'd jolt to her feet at the sound of two slightly hesitant knocks on the front door. She would walk forward, anticipation building in her heart . . .

Her musings were interrupted once again by the shrill ringing of the phone, a sound that she was seriously beginning to detest.

"Yes?" she spoke sharply into the receiver. "Mr. Giles . . . . The hospital just called . . . . Buffy, she's . . . oh . . . I, well, I see . . . . Is she . . . is she coming? You don't . . . . Is she alright?"

Joyce closed her eyes tightly and pressed the phone against her forehead. This was not how she had imagined her daughter's homecoming at all. But really, how could she argue with the man when he made so much sense. Buffy had reached his home by foot from the hospital, and now she was worn out. And it really was _very_ early in the morning. By all logic, she ought to just return to the bed she had vacated when the phone rang, waking her from restless slumber. _So why doesn't any of this make sense to me?_ she wondered as she climbed the stairs.

---

"Giles."

Her quiet whisper alerted him to her presence, and he turned around to see her standing at the entrance to the living room. As he had expected, she was drowning in his clothing.

"Giles," she repeated. "I need to know."

He sighed and sat down on the couch, gesturing for her to take a seat beside him. "Where should I begin?" he asked once they were both settled.

"At the beginning," she said simply. At his look, her lips twisted into a wry grin. "What happened at Graduation? What happened after I . . . after I fell?"

Giles took a deep breath and pondered her question. "Well," he began as he struggled for a way to answer, "you were found by a truck driver and brought to the hospital. We all rushed over as soon as we'd heard . . . The doctor told us that you weren't going to wake . . . There was nothing we could do, so we returned to our preparations."

"What about . . . what about Angel?"

"He is alive," Giles reassured her. "Well, he's not _alive_ alive, but he is still, well, undead. Oz found a spell to, well, to cure him."

Buffy could feel her pulse slowing, her heart calming at the news. Angel was alive. He was alive. But she still didn't dare ask the question that plagued her mind: _Where is he? _After all, she felt certain that she knew the answer. _I suppose a goodbye would have been too much to hope for._ When she looked up, her eyes met Giles's worried gaze, and she tried to silently tell him she was alright.

He looked down and removed his glasses, one hand fishing inside his pocket for a few moments before producing a soft white cloth. "Xander found a way to defeat the Mayor. It was quite ingenious, if a bit mad," Giles said with a small smile, which Buffy couldn't resist returning. "He, um, had us arm the entire graduating class, and then, well, blow up the school, with the Mayor inside it."

Buffy was silent for a few moments and then she burst out laughing. "I bet he's been wanting to do that for years," she said breathlessly.

Giles chuckled slightly at that, but their mirth did not last long, and they both lapsed into silence.

"So," Buffy began hesitantly, "is everybody . . . okay? Willow, Xander, Oz, Cordy . . . Mom?"

"They all survived. But you should now that after Graduation, Cordelia left. I believe she went to Los Angeles."

Buffy nodded at the news, not entirely surprised.

"And Oz . . . well, he left a few months later. No one knows where he went."

Buffy lowered her eyes. _Oh god, poor Willow._

"But the others are perfectly alright," Giles assured her. "Well, perhaps not _perfectly_ . . . I am sure they will be even better when they learn of your awakening. I took the liberty of phoning your mother and telling her the good news."

Buffy still did not meet his concerned gaze. She drew in a deep breath and gathered her courage to ask one final question. "What happened to Faith?"

Giles was a bit surprised to hear her ask that, although intellectually he knew he ought to have expected it. Still, it took him a few moments of silent contemplation to decide on the best answer. He slipped his glasses back on and looked his slayer in the eyes. "She is alive. Beyond that . . . I am not the one should tell you her story. Angel will tell you."

He could see that his quiet statement only inspired more questions, but he knew that they could be talking until dawn. So he quietly suggested that they both get some rest, and that she should see her mother and her friends on the morrow, for they would all be eager to speak with her. She stretched out on the couch and was asleep by the time he had retrieved a blanket from the closet, not two minutes later.

Giles gently covered her with the soft quilt, and then stood back to regard her sleeping form. He knew that she was very confused, and not pleased by the situation, but she was awake and she was with him. That was enough for now.

TBC

AN: Sorry about the wait! Life's been hectic lately. Turns out I've got pneumonia, not fun. But I'm awake enough to write, so here you go. Leave me some reviews to make me feel better? (Hint hint)


	9. Homecoming, Part One

Chapter Nine: Homecoming

Giles had not woken to the sound of someone moving about in his home for a long time. After the initial confusion and then brief stab of fear, he remembered the events of the previous night – well, morning really. He dressed quickly and went down to the kitchen to see the Slayer's small figure kneeling in front of an open cabinet door. He coughed slightly, alerting her to his presence. She whipped her head around, a tension in her shoulders that Giles had not expected to see. She relaxed slightly when she saw him, and rose to her feet, a box of crackers in one hand.

"Good morning, Buffy," Giles said gently.

"Morning," she replied dully.

Giles knew his Slayer was not a morning person. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep," was all she said.

Giles frowned slightly at her admission, but did not question her about it. "Are you hungry? I have better breakfast foods than that, you know." He gestured at the box in her left hand.

She considered it for a moment before speaking. "I don't know," she said thoughtfully without looking up at him.

His frown deepened at her perplexed expression.

"I mean, yes," she continued, "I am hungry. But shouldn't I be hungrier? I haven't eaten in eight months," she muttered.

"Well, the doctors have been keeping you fed," he reminded her gently. "I daresay you wouldn't be here if they hadn't."

"It's just so weird," she said with frustration. She placed the box of crackers on the counter and turned her gaze on him. "It's not everyday you wake up and find out that yesterday was eight months ago." She hopped up onto the counter, her melancholy mood giving way to a semblance of cheer that Giles hoped was at least somewhat real. "What's this about better breakfast foods?"

Giles gave her a slight smile. "Why don't we put away the Wheetabix, and I'll fix some sausages?"

Forty minutes later, Giles found himself standing behind a fidgety but well-fed Slayer.

"Are you sure she's here?" Buffy asked once again.

"Yes, Buffy," he replied tiredly. "She is home, but she is not going to open the door unless you knock."

Sighing, Buffy raised her fist and gently rapped her knuckles against the smooth wood. Not ten seconds later, the door swung open and Buffy was engulfed in her mother's arms. It did not take long for her to return the older woman's enthusiastic embrace.

"Oh my baby, my baby," Joyce whispered over and over into her daughter's hair.

"It's okay, Mom," Buffy replied. "I'm here, I'm here . . . "

---

"I was so scared," Joyce repeated for what felt like the millionth time that day, running her hand through her daughter's soft blond hair. It had been so long since she enjoyed such a simple pleasure. Joyce had tried to visit her daughter in the hospital, but the sight had been too much for her. The idea that Buffy could be right in front of her yet so far out of reach had been overwhelming. But none of that mattered now.

Mother and daughter were seated on the couch. Giles had left several minutes ago, though neither woman had noticed. Joyce was too busy relishing the sight of her only child alive and well, and Buffy was too busy trying to comfort her mother.

"I'm here now, Mom," Buffy consoled her. Truly, she was feeling bewildered by the whole turn of events. Here sat her mother, sobbing as she spoke of her eight-month-long agony. Yet to the Slayer's mind, it had been a matter of days since they last spoke. "You don't have to be scared anymore."

Joyce smiled through her tears. She opened her mouth, unsure what she was going to say. The phone ringing interrupted her before she could conjure the words though. Buffy quickly answered the phone, deciding that her mother was in no state to be dealing with such trivial matters.

"Hello?" she spoke into the receiver.

"Buffy?" the person on the other end of the line gasped into the phone.

Buffy instantly recognized the voice. _Willow._

"Oh my god, Buffy, it's so good to hear you!" Willow squealed. "I went over to Giles's before classes 'cause he's become kind of a hermit since you've, well, you know, but Xander and I've done our best to make him feel loved. Anyway, he was acting all weird and I at first thought it was something of the apocalyptic variety, but he didn't seem too worried and kept smiling into space, so then I started to worry that he'd gotten a girlfriend or a mid-life crisis car or something like that, you know, until finally he said you were awake and . . . oh it's so good to hear you, Buffy!"

The Slayer couldn't help smiling as the typical Willow babble gave way to a breathless pause, giving her a chance to speak.

"It's good to hear you too, Will. Giles filled me in on some of the local news last night, but I definitely wanna hear your scoop – and Xander's too."

Willow said that she had to hurry or she would be late for her psychology class. Buffy understood since this was Willow, after all, and it was comforting to know some things would never change. When Willow added something about the substitute who had taken over after the previous professor had "pulled a Dr. Frankenstein," Buffy thought it best to let her friend go and obtain an explanation later. They quickly set a date for mochas at the Espresso Pump after Willow's last afternoon class.

"Mom?" Buffy said as she returned to the couch. "Did you hear that? I'm going out with Willow later." Joyce just nodded, not meeting her daughter's eyes. "Mom?" Buffy said, concerned. "Is something wrong? Did you want to do something later?"

Joyce looked up at her daughter. "No, it's not that. It's just . . . Mr. Giles. You went to him . . . Didn't you want to come home?"

Buffy stared at her mother for a few long seconds, unsure how to proceed. "I . . . I did want to come home, very much, but . . . "

"But what?" Joyce said, tears gathering in her already puffy eyes.

"But I was scared," Buffy choked out through her own tears.

"Of what?" Joyce anxiously scooted closer to the younger woman, wanting desperately to hold her.

"Of . . . of what I might find. I wasn't really sure what I was doing or where I was going, but deep down I was afraid . . . afraid that you wouldn't be here." Buffy stood up and began to pace back and forth, wringing her hands nervously. "I felt like the person in that old story. The one where the guy goes off into the woods or whatever and comes back years later to find that everyone he knew and loved was dead and gone."

"Oh Buffy."

"And I knew that I just couldn't take it . . . Giles would be bad enough, but if you . . . if you were . . . I don't know what I would've done."

In that second, Joyce practically shot out of her seat and hurried to embrace her sobbing daughter. Wrapped in each others' arms, they sank to the floor in an ungainly heap. Neither knew how long they sat like that, but when they finally pulled apart they were both much happier – and much wetter.

TBC

AN: Sorry about the wait, and the shortness. Originally, this was just going to be half of the chapter, but the second part is taking too long. And I wanted to remind you all that I'm still here, and I'm still updating. I've jsut been very very very busy. It has also occurred to me that not a lot has actually happened in the last few chapters. Rest assured that, well, stuff is going to happen. Eventually.


	10. Homecoming, Part Two

Chapter Ten: Homecoming, Part Two

Buffy entered the Espresso Pump and immediately spotted Willow. Her red-headed friend was on her feet, waving wildly. Buffy felt a wide grin breaking across her face as the confusion she had been drowning in lately began to abate.

"Hey," she said simply as she reached the table.

"Hey!" Willow squeaked excitedly before throwing her arms around the Slayer. "I'm so glad you're back!"

"You do realize," Buffy began with a stern expression, "that you must tell me absolutely everything."

Willow, for some strange reason, chose that moment to clap one hand over her mouth. The reason became apparent to Buffy when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and was immediately engulfed in another enthusiastic embrace.

"Buffy!" Xander shouted, holding the smiling Slayer at arms' length. "Words cannot describe how happy I am to see you."

"I've been getting that a lot lately."

Xander quickly pulled up a chair to the two-person table as Willow and Buffy took their seats.

"So," Buffy began, "this being Sunnydale, I'm guessing I've missed a lot. And since we're nearing the annual spring apocalypse . . ." she trailed off as a waitress approached their table.

Willow and Buffy ordered mochas without even glancing at the options, but Xander browsed calmly, feigning ignorance of the impatient women beside him. As soon as the waitress was gone, they eagerly resumed their conversation.

"Well, we haven't confirmed whether or not this year's disaster is of the apocalyptic variety," Willow told the Slayer.

"But definitely of the disastrous," Xander added.

"Good old Sunnydale," Buffy said with surprising cheer. "Now, tell me everything."

"Well, we defeated the Mayor," Willow began.

"It was my idea," Xander interrupted.

"Faith took off, and then the summer was pretty quiet," Willow went on. "Xander went on a road trip to Oxnard, where he–"

"Um, WILLOW," Xander practically shrieked, "I think Buffy wants to know what happened in Sunnydale, not, um, places where absolutely nothing happened."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at Xander's near-panic as she sipped her coffee.

"Well, back to what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Willow said with a frown, ignoring the glare Xander was shooting her way. "He worked some mysterious job to get enough money to get back home. Oz and I started at UC Sunnydale, where I have the roommate from hell . . ."

---

_Willow knocked impatiently. She could hear shuffling from behind the door, some odd scrabbling. She shifted the bag to her other shoulder, glancing anxiously behind her as she did so. Campus security or not, it was never a good idea to be outside during Sunnydale nights, especially without the protection of a Slayer, or even a stake, cross, bottle of holy water . . . Willow didn't have any of those things, but she could float a pencil like nobody's business. _

_The door swung open and Willow looked into the face of something truly monstrous: an unshaven college boy. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose distastefully at the sight and the smell. Instead, she politely asked if Oz was in. The boy wordlessly turned his back on her, leaving the door wide open. Willow took the open door as an invitation, and stepped inside. Once inside, it was simply a matter of navigating the cluttered hall, but she accomplished this quickly, determined not to be deterred by anything short of an apocalypse. She stood outside of Oz's door for a few moments, listening to the soft strumming coming from inside. She could hear him humming under his breath, and knew he was composing. She waited with a smile until he stopped humming, reluctant to disturb his muse. Thus she was a bit surprised when the door opened to reveal a very much unsurprised Oz, holding his guitar in one hand. _

_"How did you . . ." she began before realizing the answer. "Smell?" _

_He tapped the side of his nose with one finger. "Smell. You camping out?" _

_He closed the door behind her as she walked in, setting her bag down on his bed. _

_"Well, I was hoping to stay here for a night or two . . . or, you know, the whole year." _

_"Bad roomie?" _

_"Bad roomie. After the Frisbee incident, I decided enough was enough." _

---

"I told her she was welcome to stay with me in my basement," Xander told Buffy, "but she chose the boyfriend. I have no idea why." 

"No, but Anya does," Willow said cheekily.

Buffy wanted to ask about Oz after what Giles had told her, but decided it was best to let Willow come to what had to be a painful subject on her own. "Two questions," she said. "One: basement? Two: Anya?"

"Well after the Oxnard incident, I came back to good old Sunnyhell and moved back in with my parents. It's just like high school, except now I live in the basement and I have to pay rent."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "And Anya, well, you remember how we went to Prom together?" Buffy nodded, hiding her smirk behind her hand. Xander continued, "Well, she came back to town looking for a relationship. And we, um, well, I guess we sort of started a thing."

"You and Ex-demon Girl. Odd couples abound. Or I guess that's not so odd considering your history," Buffy amended.

"Speaking of odd couples," Willow began, resuming her tale. "Spike came back to town looking for this mythical ring, and guess who his girlfriend was."

Buffy looked at Willow expectantly, and the redhead did not disappoint.

"Harmony!"

Buffy blinked. She had not been expecting that. "_Harmony?_" she repeated incredulously. When Willow confirmed it, her mouth formed a small "O" before breaking into a wide smile.

"That's not all," Willow continued. "The ring, the Gem of Amarra, makes any vampire wearing it invincible. And, well, Spike got his hands on it . . ."

---

_Willow flipped through the pages of her trusty spell book, searching for anything that could possibly help in this situation. _

_"Ferns, no," she muttered under her breath. "No . . . no . . . shrimp? No . . ." _

_The fight outside the darkened garage escalated, and Willow glanced up from her book in time to see Spike throw Xander through the air. Her heart caught in her throat as her best friend landed in a heap about fifteen feet away from the vampire. But she didn't have time to worry about Xander. Right now, they had a much bigger problem. _

_"Hey Angelus!" Spike shouted. He stood in the entrance to the garage, backlit by the midday California sun, which shone off his bleached hair. The resulting halo was almost blinding enough to mask his vampiric face, but not quite. "You in there?" Spike called again. "Why don't you come out and play? Oh wait, you can't." _

_Willow gripped her book tightly, struggling not to move or even draw breath. Spike wasn't supposed to come for them yet. It wasn't part of the plan. But, like clockwork, salvation came in the form of a large white van smashing into the approaching vampire. The ring prevented him from actually being hurt by it, but the force was still enough to send him flying. And, like clockwork, her trembling fingers found the right page with the right spell just as Angel launched himself from the shadows while Spike was getting shakily to his feet. _

---

"You guys fought off an invincible Spike?" Buffy said a bit incredulously. "I'm sorta impressed."

"Well, it wasn't easy," Xander bragged nonchalantly.

Willow gave him a little smile over her mocha. "Says the guy who got knocked out almost as soon as Giles." Willow's expression turned serious as she looked back to Buffy. "I managed to immobilize Spike for like a millisecond but it was enough for Angel to get the ring. Spike ran off again after that, and Angel, he, well . . . " Willow trailed off, searching her friend's downcast eyes for any hint of what was going on inside her head.

As it became clear that Willow did not know how to tell the Slayer that the vampire with a soul had destroyed the precious Gem after one sunset, Xander stepped in to finish the job. "He destroyed the Gem," Xander said quietly. "So that it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands. Again." No matter how much he may have hated Angel, even he had admired the willpower and selflessness it took to do something like that.

Buffy shook her head slightly and looked up at her friends. "What happened next?" she said in a too-cheery voice. "That can't be all the Hellmouth had to offer."

"No way," Xander said with a grin. "Next came . . . Halloween?" Willow nodded, and Xander picked up the story. "We got stuck in this haunted frat house and Giles had to rescue us with a chainsaw."

Buffy's eyes widened at that. "Giles with a . . . a chainsaw?"

"Did you know he has a girlfriend too?" Willow said. "Her name's Olivia. Actually, they might have broken up after the Hellmouth freaked her out. Which was understandable, 'cause the Hellmouth is pretty freaky, and those guys were super freaky even by Sunnydale's standards."

"Will, you're getting ahead of the story," Xander rebuked her. "Next comes the cavemen story. I got a job at the campus bar and then the beer turned out to be enchanted and a whole bunch of guys turned into cavemen. It was kinda funny actually."

"Funny cavemen?"

"Yeah, except for that whole bit where they set this building on fire and my morals forced me to quit a decently paying job after just one night."

"Poor Xander," Buffy said with exaggerated sympathy. "Whatever did you do?"

"I sold pizza. Doing my part to keep America constipated, as Spike so quaintly put it."

"Spike came back?"

"Oh yeah. But now I'm getting ahead of the story. What's . . . oh." Xander looked at Willow uncomfortably. "You want me to take this one, Wills?" he asked her gently.

Willow shook her head and glanced down at the table before looking up at Buffy. "Oz, he . . . well, he left. There was this girl, um, Veruca–which, fittingly, means wart. Anyway, she was in a band and they were all chummy. I did the whole jealous girlfriend act, and then I found them in the cage together after a full moon. Naked, of course. They sure had a lot in common."

"Oh Willow," Buffy whispered as tears began to gather in the other girl's eyes.

"To cut a long story short, I tried to wreak bloody vengeance on Oz, but lost my nerve."

---

_"Let this image seal his fate: not to love, only hate." _

_Willow held the image of Oz over the flame, his usually soothing gaze utterly failing to soothe her. She looked into his eyes and searched for deceit, but all she could find was love. Love so obvious that she'd have to be blind not to see it. With a soft cry, she released the magic along with the picture. She spun around when she heard someone enter the room. _

_"Wow," Veruca said as she slunk forward. "For a minute there, I thought you might actually play rough. Sometimes you have to, you know? To keep what's yours, sometimes you have to kill. How 'bout that? The sun's almost down." _

_Willow risked a glance out the window and saw that the sunlight was indeed fading on the horizon. _

_"Can't say I'm surprised you didn't go through with your little hex," the werewolf taunted the witch. "You don't have the teeth." _

_"You don't know what I have," Willow replied through a haze of anger and gathering tears. What did she have? She had rage: incredible, blinding rage. And with the rage came power. She could feel it, within her reach. But something was holding her back. She began to back up unconsciously, like prey from an advancing predator–which, in a way, she was. "You don't know anything about me." _

_"I know what you love. I have his scent on me right now." Veruca's dark eyes pinned Willow with the terrible truth. _

_"Don't touch her again." _

_The two women both transferred their attention to the newcomer. _

_"Come stop me," Veruca replied in a silky voice. "I like it rough, remember?" _

_"You wanna hurt me, hurt me," Oz said, his voice carrying more emotion than most people heard him express in a month. "You leave her out of this." _

_"How can I? She's the reason you're living in cages. She's blinding you. When she's gone, you'll be able to admit what you are." _

_"You don't wanna find out what I am," came the reply from the usually innocuous Oz. _

_"You're an animal," Veruca insisted. "Animals kill." _

_Willow had a bad idea about where this was going, and wished the cheating werewolves weren't between her and her way out. _

_"You're right," Oz growled around elongated teeth. "We kill." _

_The light of the rising moon shone through the window, and fur sprouted over their bodies, which quickly morphed into demonic predators. As the two wolves fought, Willow could not help but wonder if this was how things had started between them, if this really was Oz's true nature. She retreated into a corner of the room, tears streaming down her face. _

_Suddenly the fight was over; the she-wolf lay dead in a bloody heap. _

_"Oz?" Willow whispered into the silence. The only other sounds were her own frightened breathing and the wolf's heavy panting. _

_His snout lifted and he regarded her for a second, as she searched his eyes for a sign of recognition that wasn't there. Then he lunged towards her, only to be brought crashing to the ground as Xander tackled him from behind. _

_"Willow, go!" Xander cried as he struggled to contain the wolf while avoiding the claws or teeth. _

_Willow watched, petrified. This uncontrollable beast was taking her lover from her, and now it was trying to take Xander, her best friend for fourteen years. "No," she whimpered, shaking her head. _

_The door burst open and Giles entered, his eyes taking in the volatile situation as he aimed the tranquilizer gun at the writhing pair on the floor. "Xander," he called, "let him go!" _

_Xander released his hold on the beast and scrambled backwards away from it even as it began to move forward towards Willow again. Willow stared into his eyes, too afraid to move, even as the wolf let out a squeal and collapsed to the floor. Giles stepped forward and fired another shot into its back, effectively ending its attempts to rise again._

_--- _

"Then he, well, he left. For my own good, you know?" Willow said with a sniffle.

Buffy reached awkwardly over the round table and pulled Willow into an embrace, one hand reaching out to steady her cup of coffee. Willow squeezed her eyes shut and held Buffy tightly to her. Buffy just rubbed soothing circles on the redhead's back until she pulled away. Willow brushed the tears from her eyes and gave her friends a watery smile.

"Thanks for that, but I'm actually pretty okay about it." She sipped from her coffee as her friends looked at her with varying degrees of disbelief. "I'm serious," she said, waving one hand in the air to punctuate her words. "I'm okay. And we've got to get on with the story or we'll be here all night."

"Well, if you insist," Xander said. "When me and Giles were rushing after Oz, we ran into these Commando guys. They knocked Giles down, and we almost didn't make it in time. We didn't find out who they were for awhile. See, Spike came back again. He got captured by the Commando guys, but he escaped from them and decided to kill you while you were, you know, all unconscious. But, obviously, he didn't, seeing as you're here and all. But he claims it was out of some twisted sense of honor, though my personal opinion is he was just scared of Dead Boy's wrath. Which he got a liberal dose of when Angel found him. But he escaped again. It's like he's got nine lives or something. And since he couldn't kill you, he decided to kill Willow instead. But the soldier boys showed up in the nick of time, followed by Angel. And in the confusion, Spike escaped. Again. But there's a but."

"Isn't there always?" Buffy said with a smirk.

"Good point. This particular one happens to be 'but the Initiative guys–that's what they're called–were doing experiments on vamps and they put this chip in Spike's head that prevents him from hurting humans."

"You're kidding," Buffy said incredulously. "Spike's neutered?"

"Yup," Xander replied. "And let me tell you, it is not a pretty sight. He's so pathetic now–he showed up at Giles's at Thanksgiving begging for blood. It had been my idea to have our own dinner at Giles's, though we managed to lump most of the cooking on Giles, seeing as how I'm a terrible cook and Willow's a conscientious objector."

"It was a massacre!" Willow insisted.

"Hey, we all survived," Xander protested.

"I was talking about the colonists and the Native Americans, Xander."

"Wait a minute," Buffy said. "You guys survived Thanksgiving? Was there a question of it? Lemme guess, the Hellmouth put its own extra special twist on the holiday?"

"Sure did," Xander said with a grimace, leaning back in his seat. "This Indian spirit guy gave me syphilis and tried to kill us all. It was a thing."

Buffy blinked. "Oh. Sounds like I missed some fun."

"Near-death hijinks," Xander quipped. "What could be more fun?"

"How about spells gone wrong?" Willow suggested.

"Which segues nicely into our next adventure: Willow Gets the Blues."

"I was feeling pretty crappy," Willow explained, receiving a muttered "understandable" from Buffy. "So I decided to use magic to make the pain go away. I did this 'I will it so' spell, and then I kept saying these things unintentionally and making them true. It was freaky. Giles was blind and Xander was a demon magnet. And then Anya's old boss offered me a job, but I turned him down."

"Good for you," Buffy said, visibly relieved to hear that her friend had not chosen the path of vengeance.

"And the she made cookies," Xander added happily. "Even better."

"Oooh!" Willow squealed, wiggling her hands through the air in excitement. "Next come the scary mimes!"

"Mimes?" Buffy said quizzically. "Uh-oh. Is this gonna be like the Talent Show?"

"Oh no," Willow insisted, "much scarier."

"Hey," Buffy protested, "that was very scary!"

"Only because you have puppet-phobia," Xander pointed. "But if you could've seen these guys, they would've given you quite the wiggins. Guaranteed."

Buffy tried to smile at that, but her mind twisted down a darker path. If I could've seen them. What I wouldn't give to have been there for all of this, instead of hearing the Cliff Notes version months later.

Willow frowned slightly, seeing the shadowed expression crossing her friend's face. Desperate to lift it, she continued the story with added cheer. "Giles's girlfriend came into town – she's really pretty – and then these guys, the Gentlemen, stole everybody's voices. So the whole town was freaking out, saying it was a sign of the apocalypse."

"Was it?" Buffy felt obliged to ask.

"Nope," Xander and Willow replied simultaneously.

"Just your garden-variety creepy, mime-like, voice-stealing, heart-harvesting, fairy tale demon guys," Willow added.

---

_Angel raised his head and drew in a deep, unnecessary breath. The lackeys' scent emanated from the clock tower, and the vampire loped easily across the grass, slipping in through the doors and closing them as quietly as he could. He quickly surveyed his surroundings as he moved through the expansive hall that reeked of mildew and rot. He took the stairs two at a time, his pace increasing as he detected another scent mixed in with the demons': human. _

_He crashed through the door into the top room of the tower. A few of the ghastly Gentlemen turned away from their huddle to watch his dramatic entrance. As they moved, Angel caught a glimpse of a girl who couldn't be more than twelve years old in the center of their circle. _

_The seventh heart, Angel said to himself. _

_Several lackeys burst out of the shadows and moved between Angel and their masters. _Seven_, Angel said to himself. They weren't the best odds, but there was no way he was turning back now._

_--- _

"Angel kicked major ass, and then came face to face with this Commando guy, Riley Finn. Who just so happens to be the old psych professor's TA. Then Angel smashed the box holding the voices, and everybody could talk again, and the little girl they'd captured started to scream, and all the Gentlemen's heads went kaplooey. Didn't see it happening, but I did see the remains in the halls, and let me just say – eughh!"

"Okay," Buffy drawled, "maybe I'm not so sad I missed the exploding heads part of the adventure."

"Hey, would you look at the time," Xander said loudly, glancing at the clock on the wall over his shoulder. "I promised Anya I'd meet her in an hour, so we'd best get to it. What's next? Wait a minute; is it what I think it is?"

Willow nodded excitedly. "I want to tell this part!"

"But you told the last part!"

"Um, guys?"

"Sorry," they said.

"I'm telling this one," Xander said firmly. "After the Gentlemen, things were quiet for about a week and then comes – dun dun dun dun – the end of the world."

"Again?" Buffy said disbelievingly.

"That's what we said," Willow informed her.

"It was these three demon guys who wanted to use a sack of bones, a bag of blood, and some doohickey they stole from Giles to open up the Hellmouth," Xander explained in a very not-explanatory way.

"The Hellmouth?" Buffy repeated. "As in the Hellmouth that's under the library?"

"The very much exploded library?" Xander clarified. "Yup. Back to high school for us."

"The woman I met in the hospital said people weren't allowed in the ruins."

Xander gave Buffy a 'duh' look. "Since when has that mattered?"

She nodded to concede the point.

"Oh!" Willow cried suddenly. "The high school! You should've seen it. It feels so much smaller." She wrinkled her nose. "And charred. Anyway, we went in, Xander, Angel, and me. Oh, and Spike." Buffy looked at Willow incredulously, and the redhead hurried to explain while Xander just rolled his eyes. "We had to bring him with us 'cause if we didn't he'd kill himself because he was all depressed about being, you know, impotent."

"And that would be bad because . . . ?"

Willow scowled slightly, pushing her hair out of her eyes with one hand as she leaned back in her chair.

"Because Will here's a big softy," Xander said with a wide grin. "Anyway, turns out he wasn't so useless. He can fight demons, and he did. Although throwing that one into the Hellmouth wasn't the best idea, since they had to do that to complete the ritual. But then Angel killed the last one and saved the day. With a little help."

---

_"Hello again," Riley said guardedly. "I guess I should've expected to see you here." He waved his arm in a sweeping gesture, encompassing the ruins of what had once been Sunnydale High Library, domain of one Rupert Giles. _

_"Where's the rest of your little band? Or are you solo? Either way, you're a little late," Angel said harshly. "Or did you just come to clean up after the apocalypse? Sweep the debris under the carpet?" _

_"What are you talking about? What apocalypse? Who are you anyway?" _

_Angel pondered how to answer that question. Somehow he didn't think 'I'm Angel, formerly Angelus the Scourge of Europe,' would go over very well. Turning his back dismissively to mask his indecision, the vampire began picking his way through the rubble, back to where Willow, Xander, and Spike were waiting. "I'm just a . . . rogue demon hunter." _

_"Does this 'rogue demon hunter' have a name?" Riley asked impatiently as he followed the mysterious stranger. _

_"Does this army boy?" _

_"Riley Finn. Special Agent Riley Finn." _

_"Angel." _

_"Angel, eh? Well, I guess I should be thanking you. For saving my life last time and for whatever you did here. I've been tracking those demons, but I guess I was a little on the late side, like you said." _

_Angel turned around and looked the much younger man in the eye. "You're welcome," he said simply before turning back around and walking over to where the other three stood. _

_"Well hey," Riley said as he spotted Willow and two other people who looked very familiar. "Willow and . . ." _

_"Xander," the dark-haired man supplied. _

_"Jeez, what are the chances, huh?" Riley said nervously. "Yeah, I was just passing by when I thought I heard people inside." _

_"Passing by in your GI Joe outfit?" _

_"GI . . . um, no I . . . Paintball! Yeah, I was playing paintball, and then the aftershocks . . ." _

_"So you're one of the Commando guys?" Xander surmised, attempting to put the other man out of his misery. "And probably the one Angel ran into before." _

_"Oh, no, no, no, no . . . Commando, no, I mean . . ." Riley trailed off as his eyes fell on the platinum-haired man in the Hawaiian shirt who shifted under his gaze. "Don't I know you?" _

_Spike started. "Me? No. No, sir. I'm just an ol' pal er Xander's here." _

_"Oh, that's . . . nice." _

_---__  
_  
"Yeah, we found out that my Psych TA was one of the agents of the Initiative, and that Professor Walsh was in charge too. Turns out she was kinda psycho too."

"Ironic, since she was a psych professor," Xander said helpfully.

"Well, they weren't just doing like vampire rehab experiments in that giant microwave of a lab," Willow continued. Buffy mouthed "microwave" at Xander, who just shrugged and waved a hand in Willow's direction, a small smile on his face. The witch did not pause in her tale. "They were also chopping up demon and people parts and making this big patchwork monster like Dr. Frankenstein. It was supposed to be some super-soldier that would fight the good fight, only it's more with the super and less with the good. She called it Adam to be all creepy and biblical, and then it killed her and escaped. And some people in the Initiative sort of connected her death to me and Angel, 'cause she'd basically ordered me to 'cease and desist' from my 'vigilante activities.' But of course we didn't, and Angel helped Riley out a couple of times. And Adam kind of . . . skewered her, which looks like . . ."

"A stake," Buffy murmured, her mind flashing back to the fateful night last year when she and Faith had found out just what a stake could do to a human.

"A stake," Willow agreed, "which the Commandos knew was Angel's Modus Operandi. They came after him and they actually managed to capture him using, well, these laser gun things and sheer numbers. So they brought him down into their headquarters, and Adam showed up just in time to prove that A) he was the one who killed Professor Walsh, and B) he's super strong and we have no idea how to stop him."

"Which pretty much brings us to where we are now," Xander added. "Except . . . oh! We skipped Ethan Rayne turning Giles into a demon! Luckily, the kind Angel knew how to communicate with."

Buffy wrinkled her nose distastefully. "Ethan Rayne came back to town? I really hate him."

"Yeah, well Giles went out drinking with him because he was all depressed since it was . . ." Willow trailed off, a strange smile spreading across her face as she stared at Buffy. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" she shrieked, leaping out of her seat and hurrying to embrace her friend.

When Willow moved away, she was quickly replaced by Xander, who pulled Buffy to her feet ecstatically.

"We missed your birthday!" he shouted. "Happy nineteenth!"

Buffy blinked, stunned. "I'm nineteen," she whispered. "I'm _nineteen_."

"We have to celebrate," Xander said. "Why don't we go Bronzing tonight! It'll be just like old times. Except that Anya'll be there, and the only time she was at the Bronze was when she was still evil and Willow's evil twin vampire was going on a killing spree."

"Yeah, that's a great idea," Willow said. "And actually, there's someone I'd like you two to meet . . . What do you say, Buffy?"

Buffy blinked again, refocusing on Willow. "Huh?"

Xander snorted. "Bronzing to celebrate the Buffster's big one-nine."

"Oh, um, actually . . . I was thinking I might . . ." Buffy turned to the street where the light of the setting sun cast long shadows.

Willow took in her friend's blushing cheeks, and slight nervous stammer. "You want to find Angel," she said softly. "And of course you totally should! He'll probably be looking for you tonight, what with you not being in your hospital bed and all. He spends his days there, dawn to sunset."

Xander looked slightly disappointed, stuffing his fists in his pockets and glancing down at his shoes. "We'll go Bronzing another night. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Buffy agreed.

---

Buffy knew where to find him. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew. It was like some sixth sense was pulling her onward, through the darkening streets and the moonlit cemetery until he was standing before her. Neither of them moved, just drinking in the sight of the other. He took her breath away. He always took her breath away.

Angel was unable to tear his eyes from her. He inhaled deeply, bathing in her scent. She took one hesitant step forward, and he followed her lead. "Buffy," he finally said, forcing the air through his lungs and making his rebellious vocal cords work.

Then they were moving, wrapping their arms around each other and holding on tightly.

That night, Buffy fell asleep in his arms and she knew she was home.

---

Miles away, Faith turned in her sleep, eyes flitting restlessly behind closed lids. Her hands snaked up her arms, wrapping herself in her own tight embrace as a peaceful smile spread across her face. For the first time in longer than she cared to think about, she felt right; somehow, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

TBC   
AN: Whew! Long wait. Long chapter! This was the longest by about 2000 words, which was part of the reason the wait was so long. Plus I had some technical difficulties.

Shameless plug: Read 'The Management': the pilot for a spin-off the likes of which have never been spun before. My grammar's confusing me . . . I'm sleep deprived.

Please review!


	11. Alone

Chapter Eleven: Alone

Awareness sifted slowly through Buffy's brain. Softness beneath her side. Slightly rough material pressed against her cheek. Hair lying across her lips, moving slightly with each breath. Nothing supporting her back, she realized after rolling over . . . and crashing awake to the floor.

She blinked and stood, taking in her surroundings as the night before came back to her.

_Angel._ His strong arms around her, their tears mingling on each other's cheeks as they wept for what might have been.

"Buffy."

She looked up to see him standing in the entrance, a cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag bearing the Dunkin' Donuts logo in the other.

"Angel," she replied, "you . . . are a _god_," she exclaimed as he handed her the coffee and they sat down together on the couch. "Sorry for, you know, crashing," she said, gesturing at the couch and the floor. "In both senses of the word."

"It's no problem," he assured her. "You know you're always welcome here."

Deciding not to respond to that, she opened the paper bag to reveal a jelly donut with sprinkles. As she bit into it eagerly, she thought this was one of the best mornings she'd had in a long time, minus the crashing. Although she hadn't been awake in eight months, and even before that her mornings hadn't been anything special. Her eyes snapped open as a new thought occurred to her.

"My mom, she's gonna be freaking!"

"It's alright," Angel assured her, "I called her before you woke up. I don't think she was particularly happy, though."

Buffy just shrugged, not overly worried.

"How . . . how are you?" Angel said as she closed her eyes in bliss.

She cleared her throat and took a sip of the coffee before answering. "I'm okay. Kind of confused. The whole waking-up-eight-months-later thing is pretty wacky." _And you're not exactly making it better_, she added silently._ I don't know if you're staying or leaving; I don't if Faith . . . I don't know if I . . . _"There's just a whole lot I don't know."

"Can I help?"

_You can stay_, she wanted to say. _You can tell me you'll never leave me._ It took her several moments to find her voice, but when she finally spoke, looking down at the paper bag in her lap, she could not speak the words stuck in her throat. "Giles and Willow and Xander filled me in on a lot of the basic stuff. I hear you've been patrolling, helping keep the Hellmouth in check." When she looked up at him, he averted his eyes.

"Yeah," he told her. "Did they tell you about Adam?"

"Big creepy Frankenstein Monster? Yeah, they mentioned him. I haven't really . . . I mean, I should probably be getting back into my game, you know, taking him down and all that. I just . . . I haven't really been thinking about that stuff."

"It won't be easy," Angel told her, "taking him down. But you won't be alone."

The words left unsaid hung in the silence between them as they finally met each other's gaze.

Buffy could hear Giles and Merrick in her head, telling her of her duty. _One girl in all the world. She alone will have the strength and skill to hunt the vampires . . . _

"Angel," Buffy whispered, breaking the silence, "I need to know. What happened to Faith?"

Angel looked away from her and shifted on the couch. "Are you sure? It's a long story, and . . ."

"I'm sure."

Angel took a deep, unnecessary breath, and then began the tale. "It was just a week or so after graduation. I asked Willow to do a locator spell for Faith. She didn't want to, but she did it anyway. So the next night I packed a bag and left for L.A."

---

_Angel held back a wince as he stepped into the nightclub. Flashing lights and pounding music did not mix well with enhanced senses. He wove through the pulsating crowd, making his way over to the bar. He leaned over the bar and waved for the bartender._

"_What can I do you for?" the man asked._

"_I'm looking for Raul."_

_The man's eyes widened slightly. "Back room." He pointed in the direction of the door next to the stage, where a scantily clad blonde was 'dancing'. _

_As Angel turned away, he saw the man crossing himself out of the corner of his vision, but paid him no mind. The vampire pushed his way through the sweaty crowd until he'd reached the small patch of elbow room around the door to the back room. Hauling the door open, he slipped inside the room, lit only by a bare lightbulb fixed to the ceiling. That was all the light Angel needed, though, to make out the two figures in front of him._

"_Listen, I don't know what . . . Would you get that thing out of my face?"_

_Angel let the door snick closed behind him, and the one holding the crossbow redirected it to point a few inches below Angel's heart. "Wesley," he said calmly._

"_Angel?" Wesley said in surprise. "I mean, hello Angel," he added in a deeper voice. "I wager you thought you'd never see me again."_

"_To tell you the truth I hadn't given it much thought one way or another. What are you?" the vampire said in surprise, taking in the Brit's attire._

"_El pendejo," the man in the corner, Raul, muttered._

"_Hup-up-up," Wesley attempted a threatening manner, tightening his grasp on the crossbow while shooting an annoyed and slightly perplexed glance at Raul. "I'm the one asking the questions here. I think it only fair to warn you, any sudden movement and I'd be forced to–"_

_Angel casually batted the crossbow out of Wesley's hands, sending it skittering across the floor until it struck a crate with a thunk._

"_Right," Wesley said, "you had a question?"_

_Angel smirked slightly and walked slowly around Wesley, eyeing him up and down. "Interesting look for you. Leather." With one hand, he grabbed Raul by the material of his shirt as the short man tried to flee. "The Watchers Council trying out a new image?"_

_Wesley moved towards one of the many stacks of crates, and leaned against one. "In point of fact, I no longer work for the Council. I came to the conclusion that I was of greater value to the cause working autonomously."_

"_They fired you."_

"_Hardly," Wesley protested. "With Faith's . . . departure and Buffy's . . . injuries, there was simply no opportunity to function as Watcher. And that's why I became a rogue demon hunter."_

_Angel looked him up and down again. "You're a demon hunter?"_

"Rogue_ demon hunter," Wesley insisted. "And I'm on the trail of a particularly nasty bugger right now. So, I suggest you stay out of my way."_

"_No, he's not," Raul protested from where Angel still gripped him. "Came to ask me for a demon, any demon."_

"_Alright, I'm not," Wesley admitted. "But it did sound good, didn't it?"_

"_Terrifying," Angel said. Angel turns away from Wesley and looks to Raul. "I hear you're pretty up on the local news, Raul."_

"_Ay, and you're Angelus."_

"_Quirl demon, stabbed to death. Know who did it?"_

"_Sí, Angel, y tú sabes. La asesina está en la ciudad."_

"_What did he," Wesley began._

"_Slayer's in town," Angel bit out._

_--- _

"So Wesley pretty much decided to take matters into his own hands. I think he wanted to prove, to the Council, to Faith, or to himself, that he could do something right."

"That makes sense," Buffy said, "although . . . rogue demon hunter?"

"Believe me, I know how that sounds," Angel said with a slight smile. "Anyway, things didn't exactly work out the way Wesley planned."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning he found Faith."

---

_Faith sat on the bed in the filthy motel room and eyed the brown package. She took it of the demon that came looking for her, after she killed him. Pushing away her dark thoughts, she ripped the package open to find a video tape and a white envelope. Shrugging, she glanced over at the TV and was pleased to see it had a VCR. _

"_Nothing better to do," she mumbled to herself as she stuck the tape in and pressed play._

_The Mayor's face popped onto the screen, and she had to blink back tears as his voice washed over her._

"_Hello Faith. If you're watching this tape, it can only mean one thing. I'm dead. And our noble campaign to bring order to the town of Sunnydale has failed. Utterly and completely. But on the other hand, heck, maybe we won. And right now, I'm on some jumbo monitor in the Richard Wilkins Museum surrounded by a bunch of kids sitting Indian style and looking up at my face filled with fear and wonder._ _Hi kids!"_

_She snorted softly at his cheery voice before his mirth evaporated._

"_But the realist in me tends to doubt it. When you got hurt, I . . . It frightened me. I know there's a chance that we'll lose. That I'll die. And if that should happen, then I don't want you to be alone in the world. I didn't want to just give you these things because you'd just laugh at me, you little firecracker. But now, if you're watching this after I'm gone, you're probably feeling very alone; but you're not alone, Faith. You'll always have me. And," he added almost as an afterthought, "you'll always have those nifty little papers in that there envelope. Go ahead, open it. Don't worry, it won't bite. That's my job!" He laughed at his own joke for a few moments before returning to the matter at hand. "When you've been around for as long as I have, and led a life like I have, you make friends, powerful friends. I know you're a smart and a powerful young woman, but without me to watch out for you I'm afraid that the system is working against you. Here's a little something to help you with that."_

_--- _

_Faith scrubbed at her burning eyes with the back of her hand as she held the papers aloft. She knew what they said: she was innocent, she hadn't done any of those things the police thought she had. But she had, she knew she had, and no piece of paper could trick her into thinking otherwise. With that in mind, she angrily struck the match and held the flame to the bundle of papers, dropping them into the sink as they burst into flame._

_--- _

"_Faith." _

_When her shoulders tensed, muscles bunching visibly beneath the tight t-shirt, Wesley had a few seconds to ponder the wisdom of alerting this very volatile Slayer to his presence before she spun around, eyes wild and uncertain._

"_Wesley?" _

_Her voice was hesitant, almost afraid, and he dared to hope that she would come willingly. Then her face hardened, and the next words she spat at him forced him to reassess his hope._

"_Come to get me?" The threat was clear in her harsh tone, in the violent set to her mouth and brow. "Cause honestly, I thought you'd learned from last time. Unless," she suggested, her tone shifting as she began to slink towards him, sultry and dangerous, "beneath that rich-boy face, you really do have a thing for chains."_

_Against his will, he backed away from her, but he knew that it was too late to back out now. He'd never make it out of this dingy motel room alive, unless he could control her. "It's not too late," he told her in what he hoped was a placating tone._

"_For cappuccino? 'Cause it just keeps me up," she joked, while her hand snaked behind her to pull a knife out._

"_It's not too late to let me help you," Wesley clarified, holding his hands out in a sign of peace. "I realize there have been failures, on both sides. But I also believe in my heart that you are not a bad person."_

_Abruptly, she was upon him, holding him above her in the air with one fist around his neck, her right hand holding the knife against his cheek. Then she dropped him, and he lay gasping on the ground as she stood above him, hands planted defiantly on her hips._

"_What do you believe in your heart now?"_

"_You could have killed me," he gasped out. "You didn't. That has to mean something."_

"_Oh it does, does it?" she hissed, pulling him to his feet. "I'll tell you what it means. It means I'm bored." She hauled back her right arm, the one holding the knife, and drove the hilt of the blade into his temple._

_When Wesley awoke, he was bound tightly to a chair, still in the motel room. He lifted his head and saw Faith, leaning against the wall, arms crossed across her chest._

"_Look who's awake," she said. "Took long enough."_

"_Faith," he tried again, desperation building inside of him, "I was your Watcher. I know you. I can help you."_

"_You said that already, Wes. And if you know me," she said, picking up a stake from the small table in the dingy room, "then you know. I. Hate. Being. Bored." She punctuated each word with a stride across the room until she was right in front of Wesley. She drove the blunt end of the stake into his cheek, pulling the punch just enough to keep him conscious._

_--- _

_Angel quietly leaned against the door, gripping the doorknob in one hand only to find it locked. So much for stealth. He drew back and, with one powerful kick, smashed the door off its hinges. As he stepped through the wreckage, he saw Wesley, bound, bruised, and bloody in a chair, and Faith standing beside the ex-Watcher. She stared at Angel, conflicting emotions playing across her face. She held a knife in her right hand, and her knuckles were white with tension._

"_How'd you find me?"_

_The words slipped from her throat, and Angel knew they weren't what she meant to say._

"_Wasn't hard," he replied, taking a slow step further into the room. "You didn't exactly cover your tracks." He quickly appraised their chosen battleground: a sparsely furnished room, containing just a bed, a table, the chair Wesley sat in, a door that presumably led to a bathroom, and a window to the dark alley two stories below._

"_You killed him," Faith whispered. "Now, what, you here to kill me?" She searched his face. "No, no, you haven't got the balls. You came to sweet-talk me like Watcher-boy, here. What makes you think you'll do any better?"_

"_I know what you're after."_

"_Really?" she said, raising the knife. "Then you know why I have to kill you."_

_Wesley suddenly threw himself and the chair backward, just as Angel launched himself at Faith, kicking her away from the damaged Brit. She scooped a piece of wood off the floor and lunged at Angel. They exchanged blows and Angel managed to knock the makeshift stake out of her hand. They parted for a few seconds, circling around each other. Faith was breathing hard, and Angel was not breathing at all._

"_Is that all you got, vampire?" she said in a low voice. "Get in the game."_

"_This isn't a game."_

"_You're right. It's payback."_

"_For what?" Angel asked quietly, knowing he was treading a thin line. "Trying to help you? Failing?"_

"_For killing him!" Faith screamed, hurling herself across the distance between them, knocking them both to the floor._

"_You killed him, you killed him," she shrieking, hitting Angel in the face. "You killed him, you killed him, and I killed her." Her blows began to weaken with the last admission, and tears glistened in her eyes. "I killed her."_

_Angel caught her fist easily as she tried to strike him again. "You didn't kill her, Faith. Buffy's not dead."_

"_Really? Then why isn't she with you now? You call that living? That's not living."_

_In one move, Angel threw her off him and rose to his feet. "And this is?" _

_As they faced off, Angel saw her pain, her incoherent hatred, shift to anger directed solely at him. "You judging me, vamp? Think you can take me?"_

_Out of the corner of his eye, Angel saw Wesley wriggling in his bounds to reach Faith's knife which lay discarded on the floor beside him._

"_You can't take me!" Faith cried. "No one can take me, not even B!"_

_She aimed a kick at his head, but he ducked. Her next assault came before he could recover, though, and sent him flying face first into the wall. He heard her moving behind him and spun around, grabbing her by the back of her neck and slamming her face into the wall. She broke out of his hold and threw him away from her only to pick up a piece of wood and run at him again. This time he turned to the side, grabbing her as she reached him, and used her momentum to throw both of them out the window. They landed side by side on the hood of a car, rolling off to struggle to their feet on the concrete._

"_You're gonna die!" Faith screamed at him, punching him in the head. He didn't retaliate, and she continued to punch and kick him. "You hear me? You don't know what evil is!"_

_Rain began to fall, but they didn't pause._

"_I'm bad!" she shrieked at him. "Fight back!"_

_Her punches were getting sloppier by the minute, and he easily evaded the next hit, stepping forward to grab her arms._

"_Nice try, Faith," he told her as he threw her away from him._ _He strode over to where she now knelt, wiping hair and water out of her eyes. "I know what you want."_

_She straightened and slammed her fist into his face, but he remained steadfast. He sent her to the ground with a neat right-hook, but she leaped back up and at him, crying out with each ineffectual blow._

"_I'm not going to make this easy for you," Angel told her as he ducked under a wild punch._

_Faith threw herself at him, slamming her fists into his chest, her body shaking with the force of each blow and accompanying cry. "I'm evil! I'm bad! I'm evil! Do you hear me? I'm bad! Angel, I'm bad!"_

_Angel just watched, still and silent, as her cries degenerated into sobs, fresh tears intermingling with the rain water already coursing down her cheeks. _

"_I'm bad," she wept, gripping his shirt and shaking him. "Do you hear me? I'm bad! I'm bad! I'm bad. Please. Angel, please, just do it. Just do it. Just kill me. Just kill me."_

_Angel wrapped his arms around her and they slowly sank to the pavement. "Shh," he whispered in her ear. "It's all right. It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here. Shh."_ _Angel could think only of the wretched girl in his arms, and he prayed that they would both be able to make it through the coming days. That she would find the strength to overcome the darkness, and that he would find the strength to see her through her trials, despite everything she had done to him and his beloved. He could think only of her, and so he barely noticed the rain pounding against his back, the pavement hard and slick beneath his knees, and the sharp clatter of the knife falling from Wesley's hands as he watched the stunning tableau. _

TBC

AN: I borrowed a bunch of lines from the Angel episode "Five by Five," and also a couple from "This Year's Girl". Unfortunately, it may be a while before the next chapter. I'm going away for most of July, so I'll try to get it out before then, but . . . we'll see.


	12. Complicated

Chapter Twelve: Complicated

"She turned herself in two days later."

Buffy snapped back to reality as Angel's deep voice trailed off into silence. It sounded crazy, but she felt as though she had been there, as though she had seen everything he was describing. But that was ridiculous, she told herself. She'd been in a hospital bed throughout the whole affair, oblivious to the world.

The silence stretched out between them and Buffy realized that at some point they had shifted closer together on the couch. Suddenly uncomfortable, she hopped to her feet and moved several feet away, stretching her arms above her head.

"Are you . . ." Angel began.

"So that's it," she said at the same time. They looked at each other sheepishly, and he gestured for her to speak. "I mean, um, she saw the light, just like that?" Her voice sounded hesitant, weak, to her own ears and she wondered why she was saying these things.

"It's not that simple," Angel said slowly. He raised his head and sent her an unreadable expression.

She hated that, hated the way he always kept her guessing.

"However she got there," she said, hating the hint of a whine in her voice, "she's good now?"

"She's trying."

"Trying?" Buffy said incredulously, angrily. "Angel, she shoved me off a building. She tried to kill me, and now she's _trying_ to be good?"

Angel returned her incredulity, and she could see that he was beginning to return her anger. At least she knew what he was feeling now.

"Buffy, she's in jail. And as I recall, you tried to kill her too."

"That was different," she complained. "She tried to–"

Angel cut her off mid-whine. "Would you rather she were still trying to kill you?"

At his harsh words, she realized what she'd been saying. She rubbed her palms against her pants anxiously, avoiding his eyes. "No," she replied softly. "No, Angel, I don't know . . . I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry. It's just . . ." Her words tapered off uncertainly.

He stood up and approached her slowly, deliberately, until he was standing right in front of her and she had nowhere to look but his eyes.

"If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you wish I hadn't helped her, that you wish she were dead, whether by my hand, some stray demon's, or her own. . . . If you can do that, then I will be sorry."

She stared up into his eyes and felt her breath coming hard and loud in the stillness between them. Discounting the previous night's tearful, nearly silent reunion, she figured the last time they'd stood this close was her Prom. She suddenly realized that she had instinctually begun to raise her hand as if to touch him, to close the gap between them. Taking a quick step back, she curled her fingers into a ball and looked away.

"I should go."

She was gone before he could stop her.

---

"Hey Mom, I'm home," Buffy called as she closed the door behind her.

"Oh there you are honey," Joyce said as she walked into the room. "I was wondering when you would be coming back."

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Buffy saw that it was later in the afternoon than she had thought. She could tell her mom wished she hadn't gone out at all. When Giles stepped out behind her mother, Buffy was catapulted back to a similar scene over a year ago when these two had confronted her in this same room.

But she had been lying to them all then. Now she had no reason to feel guilty, one side of her brain insisted. Angel had been doing her job for eight months; of course he deserved a visit. _And a sleep over_, the other side of her brain added snidely.

"Buffy," Giles began, stepping further into the room, "I wanted to speak to you about a matter of some importance."

Feeling awkward in her current position, Buffy moved to the couch and sat down. "Shoot."

"How are you doing today? You've seen your friends?"

"Yup," she said brightly. "All caught up with Willow and Xander and the happenings of the Hellmouth."

"And Angel?" he probed gently.

She glanced uncomfortably around the room. "Yeah," she said, more cheerfully than she felt. "Caught up with him too."

"In that case, well, I respect that you need some time to, to recover and to adjust, but–"

"But there's some ultimate evil Frankenstein threatening the world," she finished for him.

Joyce went a bit pale and sat down in the nearest chair, her mug clenched in two shaking hands.

"I get it," Buffy continued. The Slayer doesn't get the luxury of a break."

Giles seemed distressed by her words. "You know I wish . . ." He took his glasses off and began to clean them. "Well, Xander has informed me that I cannot lock you up with the books tonight, as he has a prior claim to your attentions."

"Oh yeah," Buffy said with an amused snort, "my belated birthday party."

Giles chuckled softly, replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Well, should you go patrolling afterwards, do be careful. This Adam is extremely strong, and we do not know all that his composite parts are capable of. In addition, watch out for the Initiative. They would be in camouflage, most likely carrying some sort of, er, blaster. We are more or less on the same side, even if they do not know it."

"Check. No army guys, no Frankenstein."

"Yes, well, I'll just be on my way," Giles said awkwardly, moving towards the door. He hesitated before reaching for the knob, turning back towards her as if unsure how to act around her. After a pointed look from her mother, Buffy rose awkwardly and stepped closer to her Watcher. Wordlessly, he closed the distance between them and wrapped her in a brief but firm hug. Then he pulled away, nodded at Joyce, and gave her a small smile before heading out the door.

---

Buffy riffled through her closet impatiently. How was it possible that she had so many options and liked none of them? And why had she ever bought some of these in the first place? she wondered, holding up one very pink skirt with odd fluffy bits stuck on the bottom.

The simple answer: because she had liked these things before. Simple, yet somehow intensely disconcerting. How was it that she had changed so much in a seemingly short period of time.

_I was only sleeping_, she grumbled to herself.

Tossing the pink skirt onto the rapidly growing discard pile on the floor, she delved into the closet once more. Her hands sought out, seemingly of their own accord, an item hidden in the back of her closet that she had not worn in what seemed like forever. Her breath caught in her throat as she fingered the worn leather. Impulsively, she slipped her arms through the sleeves and turned to the mirror. The black leather was not made for someone of her size, but it had always felt like a perfect fit, a second skin, to her.

She breathed deeply and imagined she could still smell him, taking her back to that faraway night. She'd been so innocent, he so cryptically gallant, and both made nervous by the intensity of their burgeoning feelings. Disturbed, Buffy hurriedly pulled off the jacket and shoved it back into the nether regions of the closet. She wasn't that girl anymore.

Enough dallying. She should just pick something and go. Her mind made up, she quickly slipped into a skirt and shirt that had been thrown over her bed in the tolerable pile. Ten minutes later, she marched resolutely out the door.

The room had only been empty for a minute when she burst back in and rushed to her closet to retrieve the jacket. Slipping it on, she hurried out the door once more.

"It's just for warmth," she muttered to thin air. "It doesn't mean anything. Besides," she added as an after-thought, "it goes with my outfit."

TBC

A/N: I am SO SORRY about the wait. I happen to think that my reasons are really good ones, but I won't bore you with the details. This part was only supposed to be the first half of the chapter, but I felt guilty about not updating in months, so I decided this would have to do for now. Unfortunately, I cannot guarantee quicker updates in the future (who knew that applying to college and taking 4 AP classes would actually involve work?). But I'll try. And if all goes according to plan, I'll get in Early Decision and then be able to relax some.


	13. Simplifying

Chapter Thirteen: Simplifying

Buffy stepped through the door into the packed club, the lights and music washing over her but not through her. She felt stiff and awkward as she pushed through the throngs of people in search of her friends. Luckily, she did not have to wait long for them to find her.

"Buffy!" Xander shouted, jumping up to be seen over the crowd. "Over here!"

The Slayer slipped through the people in her way and soon joined Xander, Willow, and Anya at a table.

"Hey guys," she said brightly. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she found herself bombarded by hugs for the umpteenth time in the last 48 hours.

"Uh, guys?" she said after several long moments. "Air please?"

Willow and Xander sheepishly pulled back. Willow slid onto a stool, and Xander held one out for Buffy before taking his seat beside Anya.

"Hello," the ex-demon said with a broad smile. "I'm not evil anymore, so you don't need to slay me."

Buffy gave Xander a significant look, then returned her gaze to the other girl. "Check. No slaying tonight."

"In that case," Xander began, "let's get this party started!" With that, he and Willow both whipped out presents from a bag and held them in front of a bemused Buffy.

"Little dusty," she commented, prompting Xander to blow on it and scrub the wrapping paper furiously with his sleeve.

"There," he said, satisfied. "It's been collecting dust for a few months."

"You got me presents while I was in a coma?" Buffy said incredulously.

Willow and Xander glanced at each other, then back at her. "Yeah," they said together.

"I'm not sure if that's sweet or creepy."

"Maybe a little of both," Willow offered.

"But hey," said Xander, "they're presents. Are you really gonna complain?"

Buffy looked at the presents in their hands for a second before quickly taking them into her own. "Nope," she said, "no complaining. Just musing."

---

"Um, Will, who are you looking for?" Buffy said to her friend, who sat on the edge of her seat and kept craning her neck to see over the crowd. Willow did not answer.

"I'm bored," Anya said loudly, "let's dance."

Xander laughed nervously. "Ahn honey, remember what we said about tact?"

"But–" she began to protest, stopping at the look he gave her. "Fine." She turned to address Willow. "I'm enthralled by your company, despite the lack of conversation and your apparent lack of attention. If you don't mind, I am going to dance with Xander."

Buffy stared at the girl in shock. Willow barely reacted at all, nodding slightly without looking at them. That was all the affirmative Anya needed to drag the not-exactly-protesting Xander onto the dance floor.

"So, Wills," Buffy began only to be cut off by her friend's excited squeals.

"Ooh! She's here! Tara, over here!" Willow stood up and waved her arms high above her head, an ecstatic grin on her face.

Buffy watched as the girl moved hesitantly through the crowd, her dirty blond hair hanging in front of her face.

"Hi," Tara said in a soft almost-whisper to Buffy, giving Willow a smile as she slid onto the stool beside Willow.

"Buffy, this is Tara. Tara, this is Buffy. Only really this time."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow at the addition. "This time? We've met before?"

"Well, I-I," Tara stammered, "I went with Willow to the h-hospital one time."

Buffy felt her previously high spirits sink just a little bit. She had not been prepared for the softly issued statement. "Oh."

Willow, seeing her friend's downcast eyes, quickly changed the subject. "I met Tara from the Wicca group I told you about. You know, with the bake sales and the Wanna-Blessed-Bes. Only Tara's a real witch, and she's been practicing like forever. She's really powerful," Willow gushed.

Tara blushed, uncomfortable with the praise. "Not really."

"So, um, she knows about . . ." Buffy trailed off, looking to Willow.

The redhead nodded emphatically. "The whole Slayer thing came out, what with all the demons and monsters and the indoctrination into the Slayerette lifestyle." She shot the still blushing Tara a smile with the last part.

Buffy watched the two of them interacting and felt something akin to envy. It wasn't surprising that in her absence Willow had reached out and made a new best friend, although Buffy couldn't help but wonder if Willow had ever smiled that way at her. No, it wasn't surprising, but that hardly made her feel better when just a few days ago—in her book anyway—she and Willow had been thick as thieves, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Sitting in the place where she had wiled away so many of her nights in teenage naivete, Buffy couldn't help feeling as though she had somehow lost eight months of her life but gained eight years.

"I'm gonna go get a soda," Willow said, snapping Buffy out of her reverie. "Do you want anything?"

"Water."

Buffy shook her head, and Willow walked off, leaving the two blondes alone.

"So," Buffy began absently, watching Willow blend into the crowd, "you two have been hanging out a lot lately?"

Tara turned her gaze back to the Slayer. "Yeah, she's um, she's really cool." She shyly tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you dealing?" she murmured, somehow knowing that the other girl needed this. "With everything?"

Buffy didn't look at Tara, instead choosing to look everywhere else. "It's weird," she began after a moment. "I mean, obviously it's weird. There is nothing normal about this situation at all. But . . . it's weird to think that . . . We've never met," she said, finally looking at Tara and finding a hint of understanding. "Except that's not really true. I haven't seen you or Willow or Xander or Giles or . . . or anyone in months—even though it doesn't really feel like months—but you've seen me."

"That's not true."

Buffy was shocked into silence by the assertion.

"That's n-not tr-true," Tara repeated, quieter this time. "I only went with Willow to the hospital once, but I knew that w-wasn't you lying in the bed."

"But . . ."

"It was your body, but I m-might as well have been looking at a photograph."

Buffy's brow furrowed as she looked at the other woman's earnest expression. She made it sound so _simple_. Buffy opened her mouth to respond, unsure what exactly was going to come out of her mouth, when Willow rushed back to the table.

"Buffy, guy in the corner," she said breathlessly.

Buffy nonchalantly followed Willow's gaze to a seemingly young man with his arm around a laughing brunette. "Good call," she said as she hopped off the stool. "Better dressed than most of them."

"Th-them?" Tara said, looking to Willow for an explanation.

"Vampire."

"Oh."

"You want help?" Willow asked Buffy.

"Nah," said the Slayer, "I got it." She stalked through the club, eyes never leaving the vampire and his intended victim as she snatched a pool cue off the table.

"So?" Willow said, turning to Tara with an excited grin. "What do you think?"

"She's nice," Tara said softly. "A little . . . a little confused."

"Yeah, well the whole coma thing is pretty confusing," Willow replied. "She's not usually . . ." she trailed off, a slight frown crossing her face. "Actually, life in Sunnydale usually is pretty confusing. I mean, the vampires, demons and other forces of darkness," Willow ticked each item off on her fingers, "the semiannual apocalypses, the special Sunnydale twist on every event, and, um, Angel."

"Suddenly my life seems less interesting," Tara said seriously.

Willow gave her a soft smile, reaching across the table to lay her hand atop Tara's. "Seems pretty interesting to me. Oh! Here she comes."

Willow unthinkingly removed her hand, and Tara stared at the empty space for a long moment.

"That was quick," Willow said. "Everything poofed?"

Buffy nodded. "Check in the poofed column."

Willow directed her next comment at Tara, and Buffy zoned out a bit, content to sit and watch them.

"Buffy?" Willow's voice caught her wayward attention.

"Huh? What?"

"You okay? I asked you what's up with you and Angel."

"Oh, uh, I'm fine," she said, glancing between the worried faces of Willow and Tara. "And nothing has changed."

"Nothing at all?" Willow asked, clearly concerned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, really, it's no big deal. Anyway, I've gotta run. Mom doesn't like me staying out too late, and I should do a quick sweep before heading home."

"Yeah, sure," Willow said, still concerned. "Whatever you want." But the Slayer was already walking away, shoving through the crowd.

---

_Nothing has changed._

The words reverberated through Buffy's mind as she burst into Angel's mansion, startling him from where he had been kneeling in front of the fireplace.

"Buffy? What are you–"

"What is this?" she interrupted.

"What is what?"

"This, this you and me thing. What the hell are we doing?"

She stared at him, chest heaving from emotion and the cross-town race. He looked back at her with pain-filled eyes, his jaw clenching anxiously.

"I mean, I wake up and, and I'm so confused and you're here but I don't know if you're staying or going or if . . . has anything really changed?"

Angel couldn't bear to look at the tears gathering in her eyes, but nor could he muster the words of comfort he knew she wanted to hear.

"It's just," she began again, her hands clutching at air by her sides. "You said 'after the Mayor'. Now it's 'after Adam,' but what next? There is _always_ going to be something. This is the Hellmouth! If you're going to leave then just do it and quit stalling, quit dragging it out. Because this? This isn't helping either of us."

He took a hesitant step forward, raising one arm towards her, but she jerked backwards and he let his arm fall back to his side. "I'm sorry, I . . . I can't."

She shook her head slightly, anger and hurt mixing on her face. When he said nothing more, she turned and stormed out.

---

Elsewhere in Sunnydale, Jonathon Levinson looked his demon in the eye and, as icy cold fear washed over him, wondered what he had done.

TBC

AN: So um...sorry about the whole two-and-a-half-months thing. I've been busy with school and college applications (I got in! YAY!) and old, dying dogs (well, dog singular). And I realized that I won't have time to write again until next year, so I just wrote a scene and a half in fifteen minutes. Anyway, I crave reviews.

Oh, and shameless plug: If you're a Firefly fan, check out The Hollowing. If you're not a Firefly fan, what's wrong with you? Go watch it. Now. And I mean that in the friendliest way possible :)


	14. Superstar, Part One

Chapter Fourteen: Superstar, Part One

Buffy paced back and forth in the confines of her bedroom. After a sleepless night, she was still unable to get the previous evening out of her head.

_If you're going to leave then just do it–_

She kept seeing that look in his eyes—that adorable kicked puppy look that she _hated_—as he'd choked out an apology for leaving, for staying, for not being everything he thought she wanted him to be.

"Buffy?" Joyce called from the hallway, bringing Buffy to a halt in mid-pace. "Are you up? I'm making waffles!"

Buffy stared at the door. She really did not have time for waffles and bonding. Moving quickly, she slipped on a jacket and a pair of shoes and stepped into the hall to meet her mother. "Hey Mom," she said quickly, "that sounds great but I've gotta go, sorry. See you later!"

Joyce watched, bewildered, as her daughter rushed past her and down the stairs. "Wait! Where are you going?"

Buffy paused, the doorknob in hand, and looked back to her mother, standing at the top of the stairs in her checkered robe and fuzzy slippers. "I'm off to see the wizard. Rain check on the waffles?"

Buffy smiled at her mother, assured her that she would be home later, and hurried out the door. Joyce sat down on the top stair with a deep sigh.

---

Buffy ran across town, along the path she had come to know so well. In just a few minutes, she was standing on his doorstep, slightly winded. She banged her fist against the heavy frame, then waited anxiously until the door swung inward, revealing _him_ on the other side.

"I think I made a mistake," she said miserably.

"Come on in," he said after a moment. "I'll see what I can do." Jonathan gave her a winning smile, holding the door wide open as she stepped through into the opulent mansion. "Let's sit down."

She followed him into the next room, sitting in a large armchair near the cold fireplace. He sat across the coffee table from her.

"Now, why don't you tell me what's the matter?"

"It's Angel," Buffy began slowly. "He's, well, it's . . . Before, um, the thing with Faith he broke up with me. He said he was going to leave after we defeated the Mayor. Except then, well, with the fighting and then the coma . . . he stuck around. And since I've been back, he's been acting like our little sewer chat never happened. And last night I just blew up and I told him . . . I told him to leave." Buffy looked into Jonathan's compassionate brown eyes, feeling tears welling up in her own. "I don't want him to go, but I just don't know what to do."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

Buffy swallowed nervously at the thought. "Well, I sorta tried last night but it ended with me yelling at him and then running out. And I mean, I guess I understand why he broke up with me in the first place, but he just won't talk to me about any of this stuff. He never tells me what he's thinking and he's not exactly the most expressive person in the world." She snorted at the understatement, picking her legs up and curling them underneath her lap in the deep chair. "And some of his reasons are just stupid. I mean, he says I can't have a normal life with a vampire boyfriend, but hello! He's not the only abnormal one in this relationship."

Jonathan leaned back in his chair, throwing one arm across the upholstered armrest. "Have you told him how you feel about this?"

"Yeah, I, I think so, it's just—he's so stubborn he doesn't listen!"

"Jonathan," a woman called from the hallway, "are you coming?"

"Ja," called her sister, "you said you were going to let us cook for you!"

"Do you mind?!" Buffy snapped.

Jonathan stood up and offered a hand to Buffy. "How about we continue this conversation over coffee?" He led her out the door, calling over his shoulder to the twins that he would be home to eat their cooking later.

---

"And then there's the whole curse thing, which, granted, is kind of a downer," Buffy ranted to Jonathan as they sat around a small table in the Espresso Pump. She carefully mixed just the right amount of sugar into a coffee cup and scooted it across the table to Jonathan. "But nuns a-and paralyzed people do the whole no-sex thing, it can't be that hard."

"Hi, could you please?"

Buffy and Jonathan turned to see a young blonde woman standing behind Jonathan's chair, thrusting a notepad and pen in his general direction.

"Sure," Jonathan said with a smile, taking the pen and paper from the grinning girl who was clearly burning with nervous energy. "You know, Buffy?" Jonathan said as he scribbled his name on the paper and handed it back to the girl, who thanked him and hurried away. "I don't think this is really about Angel leaving you. I think this is about Angel _not_ leaving Faith."

Buffy frowned. "Faith? No, I . . . you think so?"

"She threw you off a building, it's only natural that you would want revenge—revenge that Angel should have exacted instead of trying to save her soul."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up one hand and continued.

"I know that's not what you really believe, but somewhere, deep down, you've thought that. And as soon as you did, you felt guilty. After all, you nearly did the same to her. You tried to, and worse."

Buffy just looked at him uncomfortably.

"You need to talk to Angel. And you need to talk to Faith."

Before Buffy could muster a response, another fan rushed over to Jonathan, this time clutching a book to her chest. "You're Jonathan Levinson!" she squealed. "Oh my god! Oh my god! My name is Karen and I think you're . . . You're wonderful! Oh my god!"

Jonathan gave her a slightly patronizing smile. "Hi Karen, thank you. Oh, is that my book? Well I could, uh," he plucked a pen out of his suit pocket.

She eagerly handed him the book, adorned with a glossy image of none other than Jonathan himself. "Yeah please, I-I didn't want to bother you! It's Karen with a K!" When he was done, she thanked him fervently and ran away.

Jonathan turned away from his fan. "So what do you think, Buffy? I mean, if I'm wrong, smack me. Karen with a K will lend you a book, and it's pretty heavy!" He grinned at his own joke, but Buffy was hardly amused.

"This sucks," she groaned, putting her head in her hands. "Why does everything have to be so complicated?!"

"The best things in life usually are," Jonathan said sagely.

"Except chocolate," Buffy mumbled through her hands.

"Except that. But seriously, it's not going to be easy. Both of them are very important to you, in different ways. Don't you think they're worth a little hard work?" As he spoke, Jonathan rose and stepped away from the table, turning to leave the coffee shop.

"No, Faith's not." Buffy hastily stood and pulled a few bills from her pocket to lay on the table.

Jonathan stepped onto the sidewalk, confident that she would follow behind him. "But will you be able to live with yourself if you don't settle this?"

She stepped after him, unease written across her face. "I'm not even sure if I know how to talk to Angel again, let alone Faith. How am I supposed to work this out?"

Jonathan turned to face her again, his back to the billboard of himself. "If you really want it," he said with the beginnings of that famous smile, "you can make anything happen."

TBC

AN: So I wanted to do an episode per chapter, but episodes are long and I lead a busy life. There is one way to make me write faster though: review.


	15. Superstar, Part Two

Chapter Fifteen: Superstar, Part Two

"How do you think Buffy's doing?" Tara asked softly into the companionable silence as she and Willow sat cross-legged across from each other.

Willow's fingers paused over the glossy magazine. She looked at the other witch sitting on the floor, their knees almost touching, magazine clippings spread out around them. The dim lights in Tara's room played softly across her warm eyes and full lips. Willow's gaze shifted back down to the photo between her fingers.

"It's hard to say. I mean, I think she's doing okay, but this is weird, even for us, and we're experts in weird. But sometimes . . ." Willow struggled for the words, "she gets that look and she does that pulling back thing where she goes all quiet and mopey. O-only don't tell her I called her 'mopey' 'cause that would lose me major friend points. Comparing your best friend to the Eighth Dwarf? Not cool."

Tara's lips twisted into a sly smile. "My lips are sealed," she said in a rare moment of confidence, of not questioning herself.

_That's too bad,_ Willow thought suddenly before her mind screeched to a halt at the images running through her mind.

"Uh, how about this one?" she quickly changed the subject, lifting the photo she'd been toying with for Tara to see.

Tara leaned in and giggled. "Ooh, that's a cute one. Come on, let's put it up."

Tara's arm bumped against Willow's knee as she shifted to pin the image of a smugly grinning Jonathan on her wall, amidst the myriad other photos of him. When she was done, they settled back into the comfortable lull with only the snipping of scissors and the quiet sounds of breath going in and out.

"And how are you doing?"

Tara's voice shocked Willow out of her reverie and she accidentally lopped off a handsome paper-ear.

"Most of the time it's like . . . it's so good, remembering that she's here and she's okay. It's everything I hardly dared to hope for."

When Willow paused, Tara gently prompted her. "But?"

"But sometimes it's like I'm still waiting and just daring to hope. And I know I don't have to wait any longer, and everything's just really confusing . . ." Willow sought out Tara's eyes with her own, blinking away tears, "and I just want to talk to my best friend, but even though I know, I don't _know_, you know? I don't . . . I just . . . I just want her back and I want things to be simple again, and it's all kinds of bizarre to think of high school as simple, but at least then I knew . . ." she choked on her words and then her shoulders were shaking and Tara's arms were around her and she whispered, "I just want her back." The shaking began to ease as Tara's hands rubbed slow circles on her back, one of them slipping under the hem of her shirt to rub the small of her back. Willow rested her cheek against Tara's shoulder and let her eyes drift shut as Tara's breath ghosted across the back of her neck.

_RING_

The sound of the telephone elicited a tiny shriek from Willow as she jumped nearly a foot in the air, which was very awkward since she had been sitting on the floor, in another woman's embrace. The end result was that Willow was left sitting on her sore butt as a laughing Tara stood to answer the phone.

"Hello? . . . Oh, h-hi Buffy . . . Yes, Willow's here . . . He did?" Tara gave a tiny giggle. "That was sweet of him . . . Tonight? Sure, I'll tell her . . . Okay. Thanks. Bye."

She hung up the phone and turned back to the pouting redhead on the floor. "Buffy says that Jonathan's playing at the Bronze tonight, and he gave her this number and suggested that we all come."

That wiped the pout right off Willow's face.

- - -

Angel lay still on the bed. Not awake, not asleep; not dead, not alive. Still. Blood rushed through arteries from an unbeating heart, a study in contradictions and physical impossibilities.

Between dreaming and waking, between living and dying, he remained an animated shell with a dead heart and lifetimes of regrets. The latest of which still lingered in the haunted corners of his home.

_This isn't helping either of us_.

All he ever wanted was to help her. Well, not all he _ever_ wanted, but all he wanted since he watched her Called.

Knuckles rapped against the door, firmly but carefully measured so that his undead ears would detect them, but making no unnecessary noise.

Angel opened his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, resuming the facsimile of life he had perfected over the years. He rose and padded silently across the floor, unbothered by the cold stone. When he detected the person on the other side of the barrier, he couldn't quite keep out the spark of interest and excitement. He pulled the curtain away and immediately flinched backwards from the bright light as Jonathan stepped through.

Jonathan quickly turned his sharp gaze on the vampire in the shadows.

"Angel. We need to talk." He let the curtain slip shut again and stepped further into the room.

"Did you find anything on Adam?" Angel asked, running one hand through his hair as he followed behind.

"Since you mention it," Jonathan said, all modesty, "I think I may have stumbled across some vital information. While studying his killing patterns, I couldn't help but notice one thing."

"He doesn't feed," Angel said, realization striking him in the momentary silence.

"Exactly. So I managed to locate Professor Walsh's original design schematics, and what I've found is extraordinary. He has a small but substantial reservoir of uranium 235 in the chest cavity."

"How long will it last?"

"Let's just say he'll be around when you're old and gray."

"You didn't come here to tell me this," Angel surmised.

Jonathan did not try to deny it. "Buffy told me what happened last night. We need to talk."

Angel sat down on the couch by the fire place, Jonathan taking the large armchair. Both knew this was not going to be an easy conversation.

- - -

Angel strode through the cemetery, his mind heavy with worry and burgeoning hope. A familiar feeling halted him in his tracks, and he turned his head to sniff at the air. There, on the left, behind that mausoleum.

Knowing that he had been caught, Spike strolled into view to lean casually against the cold stone, a cigarette glowing between his lips.

Anger boiled up inside Angel and he fought to keep the demon from showing through. "Spike," he growled. "Why are you still here?"

Spike shrugged, blowing smoke into the night. "Where else can I get such fine entertainment free of charge?" he smirked. "Question is, where are you headed that's got your knickers in such a twist? Off to see Blondie, are you?"

Angel lunged at Spike and shook him roughly, the black leather bunched in his fists.

"Oi!" Spike shouted. "Watch the leather!"

Angel wordlessly shoved him against the mausoleum and stormed away.

"Give her my regards!" Spike called out to Angel's retreating back. "She ever wants a real tussle, I'll take her for a tango!"

- - -

Angel watched from the shadows of the crowded club as she relaxed with her friends. Twenty feet and centuries of unspoken dreams stood between them. As he watched this side of her life, he couldn't help remembering the countless nights he had spent just watching her, soaking in her presence, but now that felt so long ago.

He could just barely make out a few words over the band.

"Maybe it was uhh-nathan," Xander told Anya in exasperation. "Still not fluffing up the old ego."

Buffy watched the bickering couple across the table from her, feeling bemused and not just a little bit third-wheely. Tara and Willow stood a few feet from the table, their eyes intent on the stage as they swayed gently to the music. Buffy felt a familiar tingle in the back of her mind, and she twisted her neck to stare into the darkened corners of the club.

Her friends made sounds of excitement, and she turned back to glance at the stage. Jonathan stood at the microphone, looking quite dashing in a white tuxedo.

"Good evening everyone. I'd like to dedicate this song to a friend of mine: a very special person who's been going through a tough time."

He met Buffy's eyes for just a moment as the band started up, then his gaze drifted to the back of the Bronze as he began to sing. _"When I hear that serenade in blue..."_

Buffy's lips lifted in a slight smile at Jonathan's sweet gesture and even sweeter crooning. Still, the tingling sensation would not leave her alone, and she resumed her search for the source of her uneasiness. Her eyes were drawn to a dark figure by the bar. She knew who it was before he stepped into a pool of light.

Angel gazed into her eyes, into her solemn face. He took a step towards her, and then another. She rose from her stool and mimicked him, step by step. Jonathan's trumpet wailed over their heads as they met.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

She glanced down at the floor and he instinctively reached out to her, his hand stopping a hair's breadth from her cheek.

They stood like that for a moment, frozen in time, until a girl pushed between the two of them. Angel caught a whiff of blood on her, and Buffy felt a flash of recognition go through her as she

grabbed the girl's arm.

"What is it?" she said. "Are you okay?"

The girl didn't seem to hear her, just staring at Jonathan. As soon as he saw the commotion, he waved a hand and brought the music to a stop. He jumped down from the stage and took the girl's hands in his.

"Karen, that's your name isn't it? I signed my book for you. Tell me what hurt you, Karen. I can help."

- - -

AN: I have no excuse, except to say that a) I started two new fics that have consumed some of my attention, and b) senioritis pervades all aspects of my life. But nothing motivates (guilt-trips) me like REVIEWS.

Oh, and while I'm usually a stickler for canon, I fudged a few minor time-line things here. But how many of you would have noticed if I hadn't just mentioned it?


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